Jin pulled at his collar, trying to give himself a little more breathing room, and held still while one of the staff members adjusted his microphone. He'd taken a leave of absence from work for personal reasons, not offering any specific details on the situation, but he couldn't take any more time off without facing repercussions. He didn't currently care that much what happened to his own career, but he worried about all the Jin's Kitchen staff members and what would happen to them if the show flopped. So here he was, backstage on some celebrity talk show, getting ready to do his first interview since returning to work.

He hated talk shows.

They just felt so fake to him. Everything was staged, the questions and the reactions. Every joke felt forced, and he didn't really like how the hosts acted like they were closer friends than they were. The best course of action was just to get it over with quickly, laugh when expected, promote the show when possible, yada yada.

"You're on," a staff member announced, pressing their earbud while giving him a nod and a thumbs up. Jin smiled and nodded his thanks before heading on stage, turning on his thousand-watt smile and clapping hands with the host like they'd been friends since diapers.

How surprised would the host be to know that Jin hadn't had a genuine friend outside of his family until he was about twelve years old, when he'd first met Jooheon?

"Welcome back!" the host greeted too enthusiastically while gesturing for Jin to sit down, which he did, letting his left arm rest leisurely on the armrest. As per usual, the host complimented Jin's show, and Jin received the praise as humbly as possible, deflecting it toward the wonderful staff and talented contestants and peppering in a few jokes here and there to keep both the host and the audience entertained.

He sort of felt the back part of his brain drifting away from the interview while he answered mindless questions about inane and superficial topics (where would he go if he could vacation anywhere in the world, what was the most important fashion accessory in today's society, what did Jin think of bow ties and were they too informal for professional wear...). He could hear himself replying in his usual talk show manner, but all he could really think about was what food they had in the refrigerator and what he was going to make Namjoon and Lisa for dinner and did they still have funeral leftovers they needed to get rid of and should they eat those first?

"On a more serious note," the host said, forming their face into a mask of temporary sincerity, eyebrows bent slightly upward in staged sympathy, and Jin felt himself becoming slightly more present because serious notes were never good in an interview. Entertainers all seemed to use the same targeted approaches for their craft, shooting for the extremes. They either wanted the audience laughing or crying. In Jin's opinion, that was lazy and manipulative entertainment because a laughing or crying or yelling audience wasn't a thinking audience. If the media allowed watchers to think, then maybe they'd realize how surface level and pointless the content was, and they couldn't have that, could they? But could he really sit on some throne of moral superiority when his show wasn't altogether that different from those he despised?

"Jin's Kitchen fans were all surprised and saddened to hear of your abrupt unscheduled absence while the network has been playing re-runs for the past 2 weeks," the host said, and Jin felt himself tense slightly, but he tried to still portray the portrait of relaxation.

"Sometimes life happens," Jin said with a forced half-smile and a shrug. "Not everything makes it onto the calendar in advance, I'm afraid."

"Of course," the host said with a small smile before their face was back to its previous static expression. The switch was a bit unnerving. "And of all the unexpected events to occur, a death in the family is the hardest. Two deaths...I'm sure our viewers can't even imagine the pain unless they've gone through it themselves." She looked over to the camera, eyes wide and sympathetic with a small, planned frown tugging at her lips that said I hear you, I feel your pain, your loss is my loss.

Jin froze up, just staring at the host for a second because this topic hadn't been on the agenda. Usually, he got a small heads-up of what they'd be discussing in case he needed to prepare any material, and he was absolutely sure that his two dead brothers hadn't made the list. He knew he was supposed to say something for the camera, something to make people sympathize with him, to play the grieving brother that he was very much so was in every sense, but he refused to bastardize his pain for entertainment.

So he said nothing. He let the host sit in the uncomfortable silence they'd created while his brain tried to think of what he was supposed to do in this sort of situation. He hadn't even thought that any news outlets would have investigated but of course this would be too juicy of a story for them to pass up. Because that was all his life amounted to – fodder for the hungry masses of entertainment-starved people who were so unhappy with their own lives that all they wanted to do was live vicariously through the lives of other people who were secretly just as unhappy (if not moreso) as them.

"It's totally understandable if you don't want to talk about it," the host said gently as though she hadn't been the one to forcibly bring up the topic. With a perfectly manicured hand, she procured a box of tissues from under her desk and slid them toward Jin. Probably a cue for him to accept and maybe give the camera a few tears.

But Jin just stared at the tissues because that told him that this hadn't been an on-the-spot poor decision by an inexperienced host.

This had been planned. Premeditated. And that made Jin angry. Angry enough to not give much of a damn about the audience, about his career, about his show.

"I'd rather not discuss it at this time," Jin said, but all he could think about was the car on fire, Taehyung reeling back from the wheel, head ringing, coughing, choking, looking over to see Jimin, blood running down his temple, limp in the passenger seat–

"We understand," the host said, turning back to the camera to offer a sympathetic smile. "But sometimes talking about it helps, don't you think? And your audience wants to offer whatever help they can in your time of need."

As the imagined scene conjured up in Jin's head vanished, leaving behind only the pounding of his heart and a slight ringing in his ears, he read her words for what they really were – she wasn't going to let him be silent on the matter. He could resist, but he couldn't escape. He was trapped on live television.

"I just said that I don't want to talk about it," Jin said with a smile that felt plastic even to him.

"But, Jin–"

"If you were truly concerned about how I'm handling what is a very sensitive and private ordeal for my family, then you wouldn't have purposely brought it up on live television." In his mind, he was replaying the moment of Titanic when the titular ship hit the iceberg. That was his career, right now. But he didn't particularly care. He'd been sick of this industry for far too long.

The host's carefully staged expression momentarily collapsed into shock before she slid on a new mask of hurt. "Jin, I do care about you, that's why I asked, we just wanted to see how you're doing and-"

"I should think that answer would be fairly self-evident to any empathetic human being," Jin interrupted, his tone sharp. "In fact, I think even dogs and cats and spiders would be able to share in the common assumption that anyone who has just had loved ones die wouldn't be doing particularly well, and I'm sorry to let you in on this revelation, but I'm afraid there's nothing that this brief interview on an only semi-successful talk show could do to change that besides exacerbating it."

Again, a slight crack in her mask, but Jin thought it had more to do with the fact that she didn't know the definition of exacerbate than anything to do with the sentiment behind his words. In fact, if he were feeling particularly cynical (and he was), he'd suspect that they'd expected this sort of outcome when they'd decided to include the question as part of the interview. They'd brought out the tissues and prepared for a small cry session, but they'd probably been hoping for something like this, an outburst that would create all sorts of new headlines.

Kim Seokjin, Jin's Kitchen Star, Harasses Host

Kim Seokjin Storms Out of Interview

Kim Seokjin's Dark Side, Revealed

He'd be painted as unstable, uncooperative, uncaring (Shouldn't he be crying if his family members just died? Doesn't he care about them? And why did he have to yell at the host who was only trying to be nice?), and the host would be portrayed as a kind angel only asking to ensure that Kim Seokjin's emotional stability was intact. Because his emotional stability was apparently free real estate, or if not precisely free, then at least in the public domain.

And his producers would assuredly be in a full panic within the hour, running damage control, making statements about he wasn't in his right mind, about how he was still in a lot of pain, that he'd issue a public apology later...

But Jin wasn't feeling very apologetic or forgiving. He'd apologized publicly before on several accounts, mostly due to one fan or another feeling as though he'd said or done something offensive even when his actions weren't even remotely so. But his producers had always told him to just apologize it all away, that if he didn't want to be cancelled, he needed to tell the public what they wanted to hear and that maybe the show would be lucky enough to continue on.

In his mind, the Titanic began to slowly slip into its watery grave.

Jin turned to face the camera head-on, ignoring the host as he turned on his bright smile once more. "Since this is more than likely my last interview on this show, I'd just like to say thank you to all the people who have watched my show and supported me. The work I've done wouldn't be possible without my fantastic staff, our talented contestants, and everyone who has tuned in all this time."

He hesitated, feeling the urge to repeat the familiar ending – We'll see you next week on Jin's Kitchen. Until then, happy cooking! but he honestly wasn't sure that he'd even have a show left by this time tomorrow. "Thank you," he said instead, giving the camera a final nod before getting up, already working off his microphone as he walked offstage past the host who had already turned to the camera and started breaking down what had just happened in an excited tone and lots of hand gestures. While his career plummeted into its watery death, hers would shoot across the open sea with sails full of wind.

He sat down calmly at his backstage station, dropping his microphone on the table and wiping off the light traces of makeup they'd applied to his face. He could feel the eyes of staff members watching him with the predatory gaze of the curious, but he ignored them and simply grabbed his belongings before leaving the studio.

He got in his car, locked the doors, and just sat there, staring out the windshield. He'd been stupid, rash, impulsive. He could have played the part. He could have even just deflected the question politely. But he hadn't. Maybe the future headlines were right, maybe he was unstable, impulsive. The scary part though was that he didn't feel much of anything besides the current of anger, slowly fading away as reality took over and informed him that he'd single-handedly destroyed his career, his show, and pretty much everything else he'd created over the past few years.

And this wasn't the first outburst he'd had. He'd gotten angry at Hoseok the other day, and he'd been feeling like this more and more lately, like he was just spiraling out of control and helpless to stop it.

Still, as the anger left, he just felt tired. He turned the key in the ignition and set his hands on the wheel, exhaling heavily before switching gears and navigating his way out of the parking lot. Almost as soon as his tires hit the main road, his car started ringing with an incoming call. He glanced at the digital display, ready to reject the call, but then he saw who it was from.

He let the call ring a few more times before he finally hit the button to accept it.

"Jin, are you okay?" Aika asked immediately.

Jin looked over at the display again as though to make sure it was Aika he was talking to. Once he'd scanned the name again, he looked back up at the road and passed the normal intersection he would turn at. For now, he just wanted to drive. Not to anywhere, really. Just around. "I'm fine, how are you doing?" he answered habitually, and he just got a heavy exhalation in response.

"Jin, I saw the interview."

Jin huffed out an empty laugh. "That was fast. I thought my career would be over by tomorrow, but turns out it only took ten minutes for word to spread."

"No, well, I don't know if it's spread, I was watching it live," she said hurriedly. "I heard you'd be on as a guest, and, well, I haven't heard from you lately and I know you wanted some space but I just wanted to see you and...Jin, what happened?"

"Clearly I wasn't thinking," Jin said offhandedly, picking a random intersection and turning right. "I don't think I even knew what I was saying. I mean, really? Self-evident? Exacerbating? I don't think I've ever used those phrases in my life. I think I got mind-hacked by Yoongi or something."

"No, not that...well, about that, personally I thought you came off as very intelligent," Aika paused to respond before exhaling once more. "I just mean...she mentioned something about deaths in your family, and...well, I was just surprised since I hadn't heard anything about that...Not that you owe me anything, I get it, but had I known...well, I don't know exactly what I would have done, but...I'm here for you Jin, I just want you to know that, even if you don't want to tell me anything."

Jin sighed, decelerating as he approached a stop sign. He'd navigated into a semi-residential side of the city, which meant he could just drive slow and think. "I'm sorry, Aika. I should have told you, and it's not that I didn't want to. Well, I mean, I don't really want to have to tell anybody about it, but I wasn't actively shutting you out. I just...had my hands full for a while. Still do."

"That's okay," Aika said quietly, and Jin wondered if Aika had ever gone through something similar. To his knowledge, her parents were still alive, although she hadn't talked to them in some time. Her sister was still alive too. But she spoke with an easy understanding, so maybe she'd lost someone else close to her before. "I'm not trying to pressure you or give you more to worry about. I just...despite whatever it is exactly that we're going through right now, I still consider you to be my closest friend, and I felt guilty for not knowing, for hearing it the first time from some insensitive talk show host."

"I consider you to be my closest friend, too," Jin said, stopping longer than necessary at the next stop sign so the background noise would die down for a moment. His words were true. Jooheon was his best friend, but Aika was more than that, closer than that. "And I'm sorry you had to hear it from her, too. I didn't know she was going to bring it up or I never would've agreed to go on the show." He sighed before gently setting his foot on the gas pedal and accelerating past the stop sign. "Jimin and Taehyung died in a car crash not too long ago. That's why I took off work, so I could plan the funeral and take care of Dad. And I know Lisa is back and she can handle him, but...he gets sort of distant when people leave unexpectedly, and I didn't want her to have to take care of him by herself when he's like that."

"...Jin, I'm...so, so sorry," Aika whispered, and he heard something clatter in the background like she'd set down a teacup too quickly. Aika collected teacups, Jin remembered. She'd showed him some of them when he'd gone over to her apartment. He'd spent the night on one occasion to be woken up in the morning by fresh breakfast, and they'd laughed when he'd drank orange juice out of a teacup like he was some sort of misplaced royalty. He missed the teacups. He missed Aika. "Nobody should have to go through that. And nobody should bring that up on live television, what the hell was that bitch thinking, I'm going to call up the station right now and-"

"Relax," Jin said with a small laugh, his chest already feeling a little lighter now that he was talking to his special person. Everything had felt so dark lately, and maybe that was because he'd been depriving himself of his light. "It's over with. No point in getting angry about it now. What's done is done."

"I appreciate your forgiving nature, but I'm going to remain angry about it on your behalf," Aika said, and Jin could just see her crossing her arms and sticking out her bottom lip. His stubborn, confident, almost certainly better half.

He huffed out a soft laugh as he continued cruising through neighborhoods. "They would have liked to meet you. Jimin and Taehyung, I mean. That was my mistake, in waiting so long to introduce you. I should have. I should have had you over for a big crazy family dinner like you were always nagging me to. " Tears blurred the edges of his vision as he pictured the scene, Aika bickering with Yoongi over something silly, Hoseok bringing up every embarrassing story he could think of, Taehyung and Jungkook adding in a few stories of their own that were entirely fictional, Jimin smiling over at her (the only brother not causing trouble)... "And now..." Now it was too late. The dinner table in his mind dissolved, each person disappearing one at a time until only Jin sat at the table.

"If you have any stories about them, I'd love to listen," Aika offered softly, and Jin smiled, not his thousand-watt TV smile but the tired smile of a man with too many responsibilities and too few hands.

"I'll tell you some," Jin promised. "Not right now, but soon." He shook his head fondly as his mind sifted through different stories. "You would've loved Jimin, would've spoiled him rotten. And I think you would've been absolutely fascinated by Taehyung's mind. I've always considered him the secret genius of our family. Yoongi considers himself the overt genius of the family, naturally, but Taehyung always had a way of seeing right into your soul. Of course, he was a little demon as a kid, and I wish I could say he aged out of that but..."

They laughed, only their laughter sounded sort of crackly over the car speakers, and Jin ached for the real organic laughter they'd shared in person.

He hoped they'd share it again soon.

--

published 01/29/22 (mm/dd/yy)

3372 words