#((here we go...

Clacks erupt as Yoongi shoves his keyboard, its thump overshadowed by the rough rolls of his desk chair. 

Pacing along one side of his bed, he goes over what he just heard, fingers splaying across his face before becoming weights at his sides.

This isn’t a good sign. He’s gone at this project for months with absolutely nothing to show for it, any progress on it plummeting after his self-imposed exile days ago. 

To be fair? This is his fault. With the overload of the studio, his own project hasn’t been getting the attention it needs. Amongst other personal work he doesn’t want to confront. 

Which is why it sounds like shit. 

Yoongi hums a run of notes before muttering what he wrote, stopping at the same spot and trying to amend the lyrics with another turn of phrase. 

“Fuck, not that, either.” 

He walks out of his room, absentmindedly rapping with his hands and tsking when he hits a snag. 

Without fail, Yoongi ventures into his kitchen, walking past the fridge and into his laundry space to grab a bottle from a top shelf. 

Logically, he really should just invest in another bar cart. It’s kinda shitty having all these bottles where his washer and dryer sit. But why the fuck would he do that after what happened last time? 

“Are you even—”

No. It’s too early to fight.

Grabbing a dark green bottle and a glass, Yoongi heads back to his room, trying his damned best to figure something out and shoving the memory back in its box. 

A clunk and clink thump down when he does, him pouring a good amount before replaying what’s on his screen.

Mm. It’s definitely incomplete. 

What the fuck is it? What’s he missing?

Be serious. Yoongi knows exactly what’s missing and he’s known this whole time. It’s sitting in his living room laughing. Taunting. Maniacal. 

Fuck, focus on something else. He can do this without that goddamned guitar. Write.

So he does.

Yoongi writes, and writes, and sets it all free. 

Something about life. More about liquor. Mentioning the only things keeping him company after he secluded himself like an idiot. Flying, flying, flying. Falling, falling, falling.

What the hell are these bars? These lyrics are strange. 

Write write write accomplish something, goddamn. 

Morning slinks by as he loses himself, thrown into a kaleidoscope of life and words and spirals in the dark. 

Rain. Rain rain rain no tears only rain. Ripping a page. Thunder in silence thunder in darkness lightning striking the lines. Flashes of blue and a blank digital workspace. Another page torn away. Tracks that make no sense. Fog. Shadow. Another page crumbles in his hands.

No matter what, it’s not enough. She was right. He’s a failure and it’s too early to fight. Another page discarded. She was right all along. 

He’ll never be enough. 

—

“You’re more than enough.” 

—

Yoongi peels open heavy lids hours later, mini plastic piano keys and his sleeve the only silhouettes in the light of his awaiting screen. 

More than enough…

You told him that. 

Yoongi breathes into his arm, feeling what little life in him he has for tonight. The sliver of existence jump started by your words. By you.

You, with hands that he could hold for balance and dear life.

You, with all the stars of his galaxy in those eyes.

You, with fingers on his jacket unknowingly saving him from falling into himself—again, and again, and again.

What he would give to have you knock on his door one more time. 

But not yet. Not until there’s only one shadow existing in his place. And judging by the jitter in his bones, he’s gonna be dealing with a lot of them. 

Slowly readjusting his glasses, Yoongi observes his screen, remembering what happened at your house to force this distance. That damn confrontation. His damn fault. 

The night was going well until the incident. The way you went where he couldn’t follow, only to be stopped by one of your friends before he could attempt. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” 

What was her name again? 

Right. 

Dom. 

Her cousin had the heart that he broke with his brutal honesty. Yoongi suspects he won’t be on her good side for quite some time, despite knowing he will never, ever purposefully do anything remotely the same with you. 

It’s true. As much as he fucks up when it comes to you, he’ll be the first one to be there when you need him. Which is exactly what he’s trying to do now. 

“She went in there with Kook.” 

Dom pauses with a fury in her eyes, now aimed at someone or something else. “Shit, okay. Well. They can handle themselves.” 

Is that true? Are you gonna be okay? That’s all he wants. 

But judging by the look you gave him, this isn’t a conversation you’ll walk out of without wounds. 

When Yoongi gives Dom a look, she folds,

“Maybe. Fuck, he better not try shit.” 

“Like what?” What the fuck does she mean by that? 

“That boy had it bad. Probably still does. And they already saw each other the other day.” 

“I know.” 

That earns him a look. “She told him she was seeing someone. That true?” 

A nod. “Depending on what happens here, I’ll say something, too.” 

“You’re lying.” 

Huh? That’s not a lie in the slightest. Yoongi really will air it all out if he has to, because he’s feeling fiercely committed. 

Granted, dating was something he gave up before, so it’s not far fetched not to trust him. But seeing you? Being with you? That’s the most natural conclusion in his currently scrunched eyes. “Why would I lie about that?” 

“I dunno? To try shut me up or whatever.” 

It can’t be helped. This is what happens when his reputation precedes. 

But Yoongi won’t let it control him. Not when he finally has something he cares about more than anything. “I’m not trying shit,” he calmly assures, “Unless he does.” 

“Oh,” Dom breathes, eyes unblinking and darting across his face like hell. “You’re serious.” 

Whether it’s because he can’t stand around too long, or because he cannot describe how accurate that statement is, Yoongi can only hold his tongue, looking away with a curt nod. 

Nah. He can’t say what he really wants to right now. At least, not to her.

But what he says is enough. “I am.” 

Dom waits a bit. Most likely juggling the conflicting emotions in her head about you and her cousin’s past. But she finally breaks, “Gimme your number.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now. I have a plan.”

Yoongi stops before realizing he doesn’t have time for hesitation. Obliging, he types his number out for Dom to copy while blurting out a regretful, “Sorry.”

“Huh?”

“About your cousin.”

“Oh.” Her face has mastered the combination of shock and confusion. “Well, thanks, but she’s fine now.”

“Good. She deserves it.” 

“Yeah, no shit.”

Yoongi huffs before slipping back, “So what’s the plan.”

She texts him her name before sighing, looking at your door. “You and I both know she’s not gonna come out right after that’s over, whatever it is. So I’ll go in there after she has some space. Just text me when you’re good to go in.” 

Hold up. Dom’s really sticking her neck out? For him? Yoongi feels like this isn’t deserved, but he can’t let a sudden development distract him. “K.” 

“I mean it. If you fuck up this time, I swear to—”

“I won’t.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because I—”

As soon as Yoongi hears the first raise of your voice, he abandons everything entirely, his body moving on autopilot before Dom can grab at his arm. 

And he’s right at your door, just about to reach the doorknob before another hand grips his wrist.

“Wait.”

Shit, he knows exactly who that is. And it’s not Dom.

Looking up, Yoongi faces his best friend with confusion, not caring how this looks and wondering why they’re supposed to wait in the first place. When he questions with a raise of his brow, he gets a whisper in return,

“I wanna hear this.”

Fine.

Both of them stand there, eyes trained on the ground and deciphering what they can. Getting more and more furious by the second.

“I wanted to call!”

“You wanted nothing to do with me!”

“No! That’s not true—”

“Liar!”

“I’m not lying!”

“You are!”

Alright, Yoongi’s had enough. 

And a shared glare with his friend ends their wait, your brother twisting the locked knob before shouting, “What the hell’s going on in there!”

Some people down the hall look over, but Dom’s already directing them to move along. She seems pretty alright. 

“We’re fine! It’s okay.”

“Open the door.”

“No.”

“You better be serious—”

“Promise!”

Yoongi wants to believe you. He does.

“We’re okay.” 

Your brother looks right at him when he hesitantly backs down, “…Okay.”

And neither one of them vacate the doorway. 

No matter what, he’s gonna stay. Even if your brother bails—which he won’t—Yoongi will be here. Because he’s set on that statement being nothing less than fact.

Even though he’s slowly starting to realize he may need to lay low after tonight. 

Despite being on the same page, Yoongi has a feeling his emotions are being silently questioned. Those looks aimed his way feel loaded as fuck. 

He wants to hurl. 

No, no, it’s time to think things through. After tonight? He’s gotta lay low and keep distance. Don’t make any moves or risk you being anywhere near his place—

“Dude, I said I’m—”

Oh, fuck you just opened the door and Yoongi’s heart roars to escape his chest.

Nope. Still stuck to the same page as your brother, he’s going in. Because he’s gotta know what the hell is going on in here. 

He waits while you all hash it out, observing from a ways away until what the shit why are you getting shoved off— “The fuck—”

“What’s wrong with you?” 

Your outburst in his arms catches everyone’s attention. But he’s not letting your boiling energy go until you fight because your heartbeat is racing through your back. Holy shit. 

You have to breathe or else your heart’s gonna give out. And Yoongi wants to tell you that, tell you anything to let you know you know he’s in your corner. But he can’t do anything except fucking stand there until you shake him off. 

Let it go. Let things play out. But what the fuck have you and Jungkook been talking about?

What did he do to you? 

A dangerous mix of anger and suspicion twists his brain tight, tugging on itself and pulsing pressure along his forehead. Because controlling himself right now? Requires one thousand percent of his power. 

Because whatever happened between you two left scars that reopened tonight, and Yoongi can’t do anything but watch you bleed. 

What went down? Could he and your brother somehow have prevented it? Although, he wasn’t aware of your relationship with the kid, so he can’t fault himself for not being somewhere he didn’t know about. But how? How did he miss this part of your household life? 

Was he really that cut off from everything back then? 

Yoongi regrets that damning fact more than ever before.

Your change in tone catches his attention. “It’s alright, okay? We’re just talking.”

Right. A simmering fire, your brother asks what he’s thinking, “…So it’s like that?”

Jungkook’s reply throws kindle on flames, and you have to snuff your brother out before he does anything stupid,

 “Of course it is.”

“The fuck it isn’t—” 

“It is! Fucking hell, dude...” 

A pang worms its way into Yoongi’s side. When he swivels his head around the room, he can deduce exactly why he feels all sorts of messed up: Jungkook looks like he wants to defend you from your brother. Which should be a good trait. 

But Yoongi can’t fucking think straight because the heat of his best friend’s aura has set him ablaze, too.

And you look like you don’t wanna be here at all, fuck. 

It’s not just the heightened tension, either. There’s another matter that’s pressing his heart hard against his ribcage, and he’s doing everything he can to save it. To no avail, of course. 

Because there’s no way to tell your brother about everything now. Not after this disaster of a confrontation.

When you speak, his thoughts quiet to mirror the room, “Look. We’re just talking. But I need to speak to him alone.” 

Mm. He doesn’t like that. 

Of course he understands. And Yoongi knows your brother will listen and they’ll leave in just a second. But he’s busting in if he hears shouts again and there will be no question about where he stands with you. 

“Please.” 

It’s that one plea that makes him relent. Because of course he will give you anything. But in dropping his thoughts, Yoongi finally looks up and over your shoulder. 

Only to see Jungkook glaring right at him.

Shit. Shit. That’s not a look he needs to receive from the kid unless he fucked up in the studio. Anywhere else, especially in regards to you? Laying low is definitely the move after tonight.

Yoongi will be wading too far in deep shit if he doesn’t. 

“Trust me,” you softly beg, to which he internally sighs. 

Yoongi trusts you with his life. On top of that, he has no doubt you’ll stand your ground after holding your own against all three of them. If you wanna do it alone, he’ll respect that and your brother most likely will, too. 

But the other guy in the room with hair dyed seventy shades lighter is on thin fucking ice. 

Jeon better fucking behave.

Decision made, Yoongi follows your silent sibling out of the room, briefly looking at the walls covered with memories and hoping the night ends as one of the good ones.

—

— 

Thunder rolls in the distance, lulling Yoongi back to the present company of his monitor. The same one he’s been using for awhile now, along with the same keyboard controller that he really needs to upgrade. 

Of course, he can still pull magic off with the tech in front of him. But it would be a little easier to weave complexity with more piano keys at his disposal. 

Not that it matters when his brain is fried. There’s no way he’s getting anything else done tonight. 

Successfully giving up, Yoongi trudges to his bathroom to relieve himself, bumping a shoulder on his doorway with a hissing curse. 

Of course the pain would come on the tailend of that memory. He was too hopeful then and he’s perfectly hopeless now. 

Seconds later, a sniff mingles with running water as he washes his hands, staring down the mirror while thinking about a fonder time. 

That day remains his safe haven. Yoongi will never forget the look in your eyes after you both drenched each other, water and shining smiles coating every spot of your skin. What he would give to live that moment again, one where he felt his heart grow ten sizes despite its dark confines. 

With another blink, you’re gone, taking all the color with your departure and leaving emptiness behind. The only sounds Yoongi can hear are the hum of his aircon and the gentle rush of water. 

Shit, the faucet is still on? Who’s running up his water bill now? 

Hair shifts forward as he reprimands himself, shaking a tired head filled to the brim with decisions he needs to file through. Can't take too long in the shower now. Who knows how fucking long he left the sink on. 

Fuck, he misses you. Please come back and tease him for being a hypocrite.

It’s only been a couple weeks since he left and, for the most part, it’s been manageable. The calls with you have been a lifeline, Yoongi needing them just as much as you have expressed. And when you shyly but bravely showed him some sundresses you got the other day, he had to grip his sheets in an iron fist to keep from rushing out the door. 

But after you get off the line, after darkness falls on his eyes? That is when he fights. Again, and again, every night since he made you blindly trust him with every beautiful fucking bone in your body. 

And every night, he fails you when he loses. 

Every. Single. Night. 

Sometimes, Yoongi wakes in a shuddering mess, scrambling to sit up and checking the entirety of his room to make sure she’s not there. 

Other times, he doesn’t even bother sleeping. And those nights are the longest, the ones that leave him with chasms under his eyes. 

Washing those same carved valleys now, Yoongi rubs his face under shower spray, raking hands through his growing hair before dousing it. 

You stood in this very space more than you ever should have. And he guarantees that, when you were here the first time, you were trying to get something off your arm that wasn’t gonna wash out. 

God, he fucked it all up from the very beginning. There’s no running from that, just like how there’s no running from the words he’d been punctured with before. 

“Useless piece of—”

Shut the fuck up. 

He will deal with her later. Same time, just like every other night. 

Every night until he doesn’t fail you anymore.

—

—

Showering lasts a lot longer than Yoongi intended, much to his own chagrin. 

Granted, a longer wash or two isn’t gonna fuck up his bill too much. But it’s the concept of all that waste that his parents instilled in him. Don’t take more than you need. Maybe he should’ve heeded that concept when dealing with his mountain of greed. 

That’s what it is, right? Keeping things tight with your brother; going around his back to keep seeing you; keeping truths away from the one that looked at you with dying stars in his eyes. 

Yoongi’s surprised he hasn’t collapsed from the weight of his implications yet.  

But he does just that after feeding the cat outside, falling onto his bed suddenly hesitant to call you. 

God, does he want to. Your voice, your gentle words, your contagious laughter—all of it’s right behind the press of a button, and yet… 

Tonight’s grim has decided to visit him a little early, it seems. 

But this distance was to conquer it all, right? So why can’t he get the fuck up and do it? He needs to if he wants a future with you. If he comes back into your life with this sludge on his shoulders, this monster on his legs? He’s only gonna stumble, when he should be walking alongside you. You deserve the parts of him he’s proud of, and right now, not much of those exist anymore. 

Not ever since she…

Fuck. He won’t get to talk to you, after all.

And he can’t fucking stand that. 

—

— 

Another week passes, laughing at Yoongi’s continuous inability to find a musical breakthrough.

Why can’t he get his shit together? He knows he can do this. There’s no question he’ll hit his stride and come up with something great. 

But that moment is nowhere in sight and it’s been stomping on his airway, not letting him breathe and questioning his skillset second by second. 

A few hums of his phone distract his chugging, sputtering train of thought, and he reaches for it in hopes to see your nickname. 

But disappointment seems to be the chosen track today, because these names aren’t yours. 

Dumbass [17:05]: We hooping today??

Dumbass [17:05]: At the gym and no one’s here 

Fuck, he forgot they were gonna be doing that during some weeknights. Sometime in the last couple days, Jimin brought up the idea to practice at a rec center further out, something about avoiding being watched by any neighboring competition. 

The dedication to intramurals this year is admittedly touching. Despite what people think about Yoongi, he does admire shit like this, especially if it truly surprises him. That’s why he gravitated to you in record time, right? You don’t care who sees that you care, and that’s more attractive than anything. 

Getting him to admit his admiration is another story, though. He’ll say it, but his friends have to work for those words. 

While you get to hear them as often as he thinks them.

Waiting to hear from the others, Yoongi blinks when more messages slide through.

Rohan G. [17:07]: omw sry

Chim [17:07]: Getting something first then heading over! 

A knock pounds on Yoongi’s door as he types that he can’t make it tonight, and he perks at the sound, adjusting glasses that shifted in his haste.  

No fucking way. 

How did Jimin even guess he’d be home? 

Dumbass [17:08]: Five bucks says Chim’s talking about Yoong

Chim [17:08]: 😂😂😂

Rohan G. [17:08]: Liked ‘Five bucks says Chim’s talking about Yoong’

Mumbling, Yoongi makes his way over, opening the door with an accusatory deadpan. “You wasted gas coming here.”

“No I didn’t.”

“I’m busy.” 

“No excuses!” Jimin lets himself in, scanning the living room and noticing a lone soju bottle on the coffee table. “Wait, who are you drinking with without me?” 

Shit. Yoongi forgot that was even there. Did he really forget to put it away? Did he end up finishing the whole thing? 

…Why can’t he remember any of that? “No one.” 

“Oh. I was about to say.” Chuckling to no one, Jimin goes to throw the glass in the kitchen recycling bin, and Yoongi notes with slight terror that it sounded very, very empty. “Been there. Now get ready, hurry up!”

Yoongi groans, not wanting to do this. At all. 

But it’s not basketball he’s referring to. In fact, playing pick-up will be a perfect distraction from his harrowing thoughts. 

However, there’s something else he’ll have to confront when he’s there in that gym. Something he’ll have to deal with during every practice. 

Your brother. 

Seeking the private space of his closet, Yoongi sighs to himself as he grabs a tank, recalling the last real conversation he had with his best friend. One from that same night he keeps going back to. 

The very reason he had to say goodbye. 

It’s still so vivid he can smell your brother’s cologne. After the confrontation in your room, leaving you to fight for yourself proves too hard for him. But it proves even harder for the guy practically torching your door with his glare. 

Anticipating a historic fallout, Yoongi lays a firm arm over your sibling’s front, challenging those burning eyes before forcing him away, away, away from your bedroom door. 

He tries to rush back, but Yoongi’s there again, shoving towards the open hallway with all his might and warning his best friend with no words at all. 

It works. For now. 

Shrugging, the man visibly inhales as they head into the noisy house, passing through and going straight to where Yoongi assumes correctly. 

Seconds later, they’re in a bedroom he has been in more times than yours, him settling into a stiff desk chair while your brother sits hunched over on sagging sheets. 

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“No you won’t,” Yoongi quips, staring up at framed vinyls and jerseys. Voice neutral, he explains with logic, “If you’re charged with his murder, she’ll be charged with yours.”

“Yeah, but.. Did you see her back there? She looked so..”

Yoongi’s heart pangs. Because yes. Yes, he fucking did. Not only did he see you, but he felt you—the anger, the sadness, the confusion. Honestly, he has the same threatening thoughts as his best friend, but there’s no way they’re being let loose.  

So he can only hum in acknowledgement. “I know.” 

After a long beat, your brother forces the frustration from his lungs, “I need a fucking drink.”

“Then get up.” 

“And a hit.”

Yoongi’s eyes follow the gesture your brother aims toward his desk, and he grabs the lone pack before tossing it over. 

Minutes go by as they meander through the house, ignoring the curious looks and shouts to play cards. After procuring a bottle and glasses from the kitchen, they head out not to the full backyard, but into the open air of the front porch. 

“Give us some space for a sec, guys,” your brother calmly asks, not shocking Yoongi but startling the small gathering in the area. Everyone quickly apologizes for no reason before filing inside. 

Leaving the two of them alone against the world. As it has been. As it should be.

Fuck. 

Yoongi watches his friend approach the wooden railing overlooking the garden, arms resting on mahogany that he just got refinished two weeks ago. As he licks dry lips, he listens to the man he’s known forever, hating how he feels like a fraud. 

“I knew they had a thing, but.. I dunno what to think now.” The fidget of his leg mirrors how Yoongi feels. “He’s the only one I trusted with her.”

Damn. So what the hell happened between then and now for Kook to lose it all? Is the same fate awaiting him when his own truth comes into the spotlight?

Silent and aching, Yoongi walks up to join his friend, offering whisky and his two cents, “Maybe something happened.”

A sigh precedes a pouring of liquor. Your brother really is going through it if he’s serving himself a double, and it’s not easy to watch. “Why didn’t they tell me?”

Well. Many reasons, Yoongi imagines. Definitely not coming from a long period of terrifying experience, of course. 

As he pours his own glass, he asks with a hint of anxiety, “Would you've listened if they had?” 

They both know the answer, so he doesn’t understand the hesitation before the man finally concedes, “…I dunno. Probably would’ve just kicked his ass.”

Both of them let out knowing huffs of amusement, no doubt picturing the same scenario. “Uh huh.” 

Your brother is the first to default back to wallowing. “Nah, but… He hurt her, dude. Did you see how she looked?” 

“You asked that already,” Yoongi points out before taking a fig and tobacco-infused sip. “But no, I was mostly watching him.”

He earns a shoulder covered look before a grateful, haunting, “Thanks.” 

That’s Yoongi’s role to play, after all. Watching out for anything and anyone that would do you harm while your brother is away. It’s how things have been for a minute, even Jimin and now Taehyung taking up that position alongside him. 

It sets a lingering ache in his stomach to know his place is so close, yet so damn far. The fact that he’d perpetually be just out of reach should be enough to drive him mad. But your brother is his number one. His life saver. His everything. 

A sinister voice tugs on Yoongi’s ear, reminding him how easy it’s been to betray the guy despite all that supposed loyalty in his veins. What a joke. What a traitor.

He swipes the wisp away with a scratch. “Do you trust her?” 

“It’s not that. It’s… It’s always been everyone else I have an issue with.” 

Agreed. “Mm.” 

“I mean, I trust you,” his friend continues, straightening to pop a cig from its box. As he grabs it with wet lips, words get muddled but still ring clear, “Not in that way with her, I’d fucking kill you, but. I know you got my back, too.” 

Yoongi’s stomach convulses down the porch steps. 

And at the flick of a lighter, his last shred of hope goes up in flames. “Uh huh.” 

“I just… I know I overreact. I’m not above thinking I don’t. But I just gotta be sure she has someone good to her.” Restless smoke billows out as a contemplative arm falls. “I know I haven’t been around lately.” 

Ah. Yoongi’s stomach is about to have a companion, his heart dangling from the cliffs of his ribs.

Someone once told him that life begins and ends with choices. Decisions make branches from your tree, consequences and outcomes spiraling from each major base. The ones made with good intentions sprout leaves; the ones made with ill will wither away. Those are the ones that weigh you down with no effort—the ones you have to cut before they stunt your growth.

As his fingers graze over a proverbial machete, Yoongi wonders if the choices he made with you in mind count for the better. They have to, right? If he’d make them again, that counts for something, yeah? 

Talking into his glass, Yoongi responds to the one that told him all this in the first place, back when he pulled out the diseased roots poisoned by a smile. “Then do that.” 

“Do what?” 

Even if these decisions were made with good intentions, they’re still twisted. And there’s no way to straighten them when a soul feels way too similar. “Stick around for a sec.” 

Be there with you when he walks away from the most beautiful branch he’s ever grown. 

As much as he’s fighting himself to not do it this way, it’s inevitable. This is a horrible line to walk between the both of you, and he’s quickly seeing less and less options. 

Because if he tells your brother about the two of you now? It’s over. But if he keeps this up with you and strains the bond with your family? The guilt will eat him alive. 

You both mean the world to him. Which leaves Yoongi with an impossible scenario unless he gets his shit figured out. 

And he has. So much shit.

“Stick around?” 

“Yeah. Like a few months or so.” If he needs more time than that, he’ll legitimately go insane. 

“What’s with the sudden advice? You miss me that bad?” 

Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. At least, not without choking on his own self-affliction. “So she knows she’s got someone after all this.” 

After what he’s about to do. 

“Also, no. I don’t,” he lies. 

Your brother gives a playful shove before looking into his glencairn. “I guess I could move some trips around. They don’t really need me for the time being anyway.” 

“Does she know, by the way?” 

“Know what.” 

A shrug. “Anything. Why you even have this job in the first place.” 

“No,” your brother admits before taking another hit. “She doesn’t need to worry about that shit.” 

“She could appreciate it. Knowing.”

A look is sent his way. “You’re acting like you know her.” 

Fuck. Think. He cannot fuck this up before it even starts. “Is this really about me?” 

Yoongi is taking a huge gamble here. But it works. Most likely because both of them are way too tired to think about uncomfortable things anymore. 

“No. And I’ll think about staying.” 

Beat irregular, Yoongi’s heart prepares for the free fall.

“You’re a good guy, Yoong.” 

And it slips from the ledge before he’s ready. “You, too.” 

“Me? Don’t I know it,” your brother jokes with a laugh, straightening and smushing his cig in an ashtray. “I’m gonna make my rounds again.”

“Probably gonna head out soon,” Yoongi says, the organ in his chest slowly losing its pulse. “Just gotta say some byes first.” 

“Really? You never say bye.” 

Tonight, Yoongi will. He has to see you one last time before going back to his personal hell. “Sometimes. You just never see me.” 

The door opens with a slight creak. Because this part of the front porch hasn’t been redone yet. “Ah, whatever.” 

As a wave of aroma wafts through the foyer, Yoongi blurts another idea before he can stopper his worrying mind, “Leave her some food, too. She’s gonna need it.” 

The last thing he sees before a voice cuts in from above is your brother’s backward look.

“You ready?” 

Thrown out of the memory, Yoongi flicks his gaze to the one filling up his bedroom door. 

Bedroom door. His bedroom. They’re gonna go practice. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

“Okay…” Jimin gives him a look that calls him out like no other. It’s quite impressive how he’s always been able to do that.

But the nosy man doesn’t pry this time. “Then let’s go.” 

—

—

Playing goes well. While it’s clear none of the guys are at their best, they’re gonna get there. Even if it’s building stamina, which Yoongi desperately needs. But if they keep practicing like this? It could actually make them a threat the rest of intramurals. 

But your brother has been subdued all night. To the point where Jimin shoots Yoongi some choice looks to go over and ask what the fuck is up. 

Fine. He’ll deal with it. When he travels down the sideline to start the conversation, turns out the quiet mood is because of work,

“I’m trying to get out of it.”

“Out of what? A trip?”

“Yeah.”

“Just don’t go,” Yoongi poorly advises, wiping forehead sweat with his tank. A quick push forces laughter out his lips.

“You know I can’t do that.” Sporting a frown, the busy man sighs loud. “Especially when I’m in line for a promotion.”

“Wait, what?” Hold up, that’s a new development Yoongi didn’t see coming. Though he should have, since this guy is a nerd and one hell of a charmer. “Since when?”

“Trying not to say anything to jinx it.” Hide it all he wants, his smile contradicts his humility. Yoongi can’t help but give him a raised brow. When Jimin jogs up, he listens in with curiosity. “But yeah, they’re in talks to move me up.” 

The dusty blond yells in shock, hand over his mouth as some dribbling around them stops. The guys on the other end of the court still keep shooting around, though, squeaks of sneakers pinging off stark gym walls. 

“Trying not to say anything, huh,” Yoongi drawls, smirk collecting some loose sweat. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Fuck off,” your brother counters with a grin. A real one this time. “I did wanna tell you guys, just in person. But nothing’s guaranteed yet so if I don’t get it, no clowning.”

“Nah, you’re gonna get it,” Jimin assures, patting him on the back and recoiling at the moisture. “Ah. Are you aware you feel like a wet rag?”

While Yoongi’s shoulders shake, your brother’s dip as he grows sheepish, “I know. Nerves got me playing a little too hard.” 

Humility. Shyness. These emotions are hard to come by when it comes to him. When did he get this soft? Is he actually hanging out with you like Yoongi intended?

If so, that’s good. You both need it. The distance is working. 

So why does that gut him even deeper? 

“Alright, let’s put those nerves to use then,” Jimin offers, tone leaving no room to argue. Calling out to the whole court, he shouts, “One more game then we’re done!” 

The whole team acknowledges him in tandem. 

—

— 

Holy fuck, it’s over.

Hearts pumping and breath ragged, everyone dumps themselves on the court floors when your brother finally, mercifully makes the winning shot. 

Of course the last game took them fucking forever. No one could make a basket from being so worn down, and Yoongi’s muscles started protesting so hard they were gonna force him horizontal without his say. 

Someone’s phone vibrates from the bleachers, and no one even moves to check if it’s theirs. Only huffs, exhales, and gulps fill the large space, body heat and sweat weighing the air down.  

“Ah, shit, that’s me,” your brother rasps, twisting his watch while lying flat on his back. Tapping the glass face with his nose, he answers with enviable energy, “Hello!”

“Hey. You still out?”

Yoongi’s heart shatters on impact.

His gaze flicks to Jimin’s before he tilts toward fluorescent ceiling lights, splayed hands keeping him upright and eyes closing in longing. 

“Yeah, we’re still out. What’s up?”

“Just wondering. Dinner’s in the fridge, saved some stew for you.” 

“Thank god. There meat in there?”

As you prattle off a stinging response, Yoongi slowly smirks despite his ribcage tearing itself into scraps. What he would give to come home to you making dinner, joining you to help and watching your cute ass bustle around his kitchen—your kitchen.

One day. One day, one day, one day. 

“—be back soon. Thanks for the food!” 

“Mmhmm. See you later.”

As much as your voice soothes, Yoongi can’t help but think you sound… What is that he hears? There’s something in there that’s making his chest clench impossibly hard, digging into his head and making him regret everything all over again. 

No. It’s not what you sound like, it’s what you don’t. 

Yourself.  

Which is not what Yoongi intended. And his control over the dark part of his mind slips a precarious amount. 

His walls slam so far down that memories flood in, whisking him back to the moment he both wants to think about and banish from his heart all the same. 

The one he replays in his mind over, and over, and over again. 

After his talk with your brother, he did end up saying goodbye to some friends around the house. Did he do it because he wanted to? Sure. But mostly he did it to procrastinate saying goodbye to you. 

However, when he gets a text from your friend, his heart stutters and braces for a total meltdown. 

Dominique S. [21:30]: Going in there now.

Yoongi [21:31]: 👍

Yoongi [21:35]: Clear

Why is he nervous? Why is he shaking?

Dom opens the door with haste. “One minute,” she warns, and Yoongi already knows she’s the type to count every second. “Then you’re on your own.”

Sixty seconds.

He can do that.

Any amount of time with you is enough.

“K.”

Yoongi enters to see your face so torn his heart lurches, propelling him the rest of the way until he’s close enough to pull you in. 

Yes. Let it out. Let it all out while he’s here.

“Fuck.”

Yoongi does everything he can to relieve you of anything that doesn’t serve you. Squeezing his embrace to keep it imprinted around your soul long after he parts. Your voice is music along his bones, steadying him upright when he wants to crumble at your feet. 

Even if this is all he gets, this is enough. It’s enough, not enough, enough.

But he has to know if you’re gonna be okay, and reality sets in like quicksand. 

Fuck, this is really the last time he’s gonna see you. Fuck fuck fuck he needs more time. “What happened?” 

You aren’t talking.

That answers enough. 

“Don’t sweat it,” he amends, kissing your forehead and stepping back at arm’s length. “You gonna be okay?”

Shit. You look like you’ve been shattered and are attempting to find your pieces. And Yoongi despises that look because he’s been there before. 

Before. Sure. It’s more truthful to say he’s still searching for most of his. 

“Yes. No. I just, umm. I need a minute.”

“You don’t have to go back out there, you know.”

“But you do,” you counter. “And I just wanna see you.” 

For a moment, Yoongi abandons his priorities and his whole upper body calms. Because you have that power over him. And he’s fine with being at your mercy whenever you demand it. 

His voice comes out so soft, “You can’t keep saying shit like that.” 

“But it’s true.” 

Smart ass. What he says next is a knife twist into his side, because he wants it so fucking badly he’ll do anything,

“Makes me wanna take you home.” 

But not now. There’s something he has to take care of first before he takes care of you. Something slithering around his living room and waiting for him to leave you behind. 

You’re doing everything he wants, from closing the distance to circling arms around his waist. Fuck, if he could choose one thing to linger, it would be the feel of those hands pressed against his shirt. And his reverence on your temple to keep your mind safe.

“I want you to do that,” you admit into his tee, “All the time.” 

“Take you home?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

Even your arm feels timid under his touch? Shit. 

If only he’d done things properly. Yoongi would have spent this whole night by your side and taken you home at the first drop of a fucking tear. “You know I’d do it if I could, doll.” 

If he were someone else. If he had come clean before. 

If he wasn’t such a damn coward. 

Why did it all come crashing down over the course of a day? How could this disruption derail the quickest path to happiness in a second? 

Path number two is long, and arduous, and dangerous. But Yoongi’s gonna brave it all for you. A clean slate is what you deserve, not this room marred with grime and his shortcomings, his own demons tearing at the walls. 

A warning knock slams his brain into overdrive, and he must look like a mess right now because you’re staring and staring hard fuck! “Listen.”

“Hmm?”

“I know we said we’d say something.”

The understanding in your eyes is misguided. And it cracks his heart in two before he interrupts your hopeful strategy.

“There’s no way. At least, not tonight. Jungkook—”

“It may need to be a bit longer than that.”

He’s never felt so hollowed out in his life. 

“So you probably won’t see me for awhile.”

There’s already a ring of fire around his eyes. 

“Yoongi, please—”

“Can you do that?”

This is all he can say? This is all he’s gonna give you? Judging by the blockage in his throat and the ache along his heart, Yoongi realizes he can’t explain himself. It’s too shameful. It’s better if he doesn’t. 

But watching hurt and confusion prick your eyes is setting his lungs ablaze. Fuck, you deserve someone better but also fuck that because he’s gonna fight for this shit. This is the only path he can see. The one he must travel himself. 

And he’s already burning your features on his eyelids, if only to see your outline in every blink.

Say something. Please. “Babe?”

Tell him not to go. 

Tell him to go out there and fucking confess because he’ll do it. 

Something painful replaces the beats of his heart, changing the tempo and forcing them staccato. The skip, skip, thump of his chest almost buckles him forward, but Yoongi forces himself to stand tall. Resolute. Decisive. 

But tell him anything you want and he’ll do it. 

Fuck, he can’t deny anything anymore. The thoughts that have plagued his mind for months are now the ones he invites in without hesitation. Because he’s done pretending they’re lies. 

He’s yours. It’s always been this way, long before you even knew it. If only you could read his mind because it has hell of a lot more to say than he does, because right now? If you break down then he’s right there with you. 

Fuck, this is a mistake. His gut is screaming and protesting and there’s nothing he can do to placate. What the fuck is he doing? Why can’t he feel his own heart anymore? “Doll, let me know because—”

“Anything,” you choke out, searing his eyes a whole deeper shade. “I’ll do it.”

Goddamn it. Yoongi already wants to abandon his idea because you look so lost and he’ll scrap it all if you tell him not to go please tell him not to go be selfish be selfish yell at him and be selfish— 

“Anything for you.”

Fuck.

The pang in his chest tells him all he needs to know. How this is a big fucking mistake but he can’t think of any other way out. He’s doing this for the both of you. You and him. For you, for him—

“For us,” he corrects, diving in to give you the deepest kiss filled with his greatest fears.

This is for the long run. Yoongi’s decidedly, one-hundred percent in it for the long run.

As long as he keeps fighting his demons. Each and every single night. 

And with that, he pulls away, turning to retreat into the real world that proves absurdly cruel. 

Leaving you is already making him weary. Knowing he’s going into that apartment alone for days. He won’t get to see you at all. There will be nothing but work and the occasional drink with Jimin, which even then he may start to turn down.

This distance is necessary. But also fucking stupid. 

Maybe you’ll forget about him.

Maybe you’ll realize life is probably better without him in it.

But above everything, he really fucking hopes that you’ll come find him again. 

Your fingers on his arm are what Yoongi feels first. But his body reacts in a second as soon as you tug him back into a kiss. 

And his eyes catch fire as they squeeze, ribcage clenching and gasping for air when you do that desperate tug on his clothes. Shit shit shit if you do that again he’ll never fucking leave your side.  

Everything else disappears except you. Your breaths, your lips, your unending consideration for his space. He asked and he got it, which makes this one act of resistance tear him right through, and he pours every ounce of himself into making you understand how much he wants this. 

“Yoongi, I—”

Don’t say it. Not when he’s about to break everything apart. 

Fuck, you were really gonna say it. Yoongi knows it in his fucking bones and his heart is gasping. Fuck.

Of fucking course this is how he finds out. Right before he leaves? Right before he ventures into himself to confront everything he doesn’t wanna see? 

This alone will be his guiding light. The knowledge that you feel the same way he does and the reason for everything he’s gonna fight through. “I know.”

His name rattles around your mouth.

“It’ll be okay.” You have to believe him.

Because he’s gonna find it hard to believe himself. “Okay?”

Your face contorts in a way that has his eyes scorching. Without knowing anything about why he’s gonna leave or how long it’s gonna be, you’re looking at him with vehement trust and searing willpower. So goddamn strong, just as he needs to be.

He loves you so fucking much. 

“Fuck.” 

He smashes his lips so hard against yours that you react, your saltwater sloshing against his cheeks just in time to hide his falling tears.

He needs this. You need him to do this. Everything he’s about to do, it’s all for you. You, you, you. 

Because he knows you’d go with him anywhere, but when it comes to his inner fears, that’s not somewhere you can follow. That’s a place he has to walk into on his own, knowing he’ll be swallowed in darkness until he finds his own dimmed light. 

Yoongi pulls away right as Dom opens the door, but he doesn’t even flinch at the sight of her. Because he wants you to see that. He wants to show you where he stands for real. 

“I got us,” he vows, planting one more kiss on a forehead he reveres so much. 

“Hurry up, for god’s sake!” 

Yoongi finally steps away, slowly increasing the distance and already feeling his heart pleading to feel yours again. 

You’re so beautiful.

He doesn’t want to go. 

But with one final look, Yoongi leaves, and it’s a miracle he stepped out of your room in one piece because he feels like he left his better half inside.  

Didn’t he say you were his good luck charm? Who the fuck leaves their guardian angel behind? He can’t think about how you looked. Those tears will be flooding into his dreams. 

Fuck, he needs air. 

Brain scrambled, Yoongi heads straight down the lesser tracked hallway before escaping to the guest room. When his wrist is grabbed, he flinches so hard it strikes like lightning. “Just give me a sec.”

Dom’s voice can command anyone with ease. “Look at me.”

So he does. Annoyed he can’t have time to get his shit together but obeying nonetheless. What’s the fucking point anymore. He’s already lost it all. 

“Oh,” she quietly observes. “You look like shit. What happened in there?”

What a succinct summary. Yoongi wipes a bit of his face with the back of his thumb, looking away on pure instinct.

“I’m about to swing so you better start explai—”

“Whatever I’m about to do, I’m doing it for her,” Yoongi admits out loud. So easily. So naturally that Dom blinks and can’t do much else. Sighing, he closes his eyes. “But I can’t just… I dunno how to say it yet.” 

“What?”

Everything is too hard to lay out right now. Doesn’t matter what the fuck it is, it’s fighting to stay in his arid throat. “I… Got shit to deal with first. Shit I know she’d want me to fix.” 

“You sure about that? Cus it looks like you just cut everything off.”

Dominique is being too fucking accurate right now. His hatchet is bleeding. That branch was his life force. “For now,” he solemnly sighs. “But I have to try.”

“If this doesn’t work, you’re dead to me.” 

“I’ll be dead to me, too.”

At this, Dom reels back so far it’s comical. “What are you saying? Hello?”

“Just… Keep her busy. For me.”

“Umm, no, go back. What the fuck are you planning to do?”

Oh. Yoongi gets what Dom’s thinking, but that’s not what he’s talking about. 

He’s at least gotten past that part. 

“Nothing like what you’re thinking.” Yoongi scratches an ear. “I just need to get my mind right. I don’t wanna bring any baggage into this, but. If you haven’t guessed, I have a fucking lot.” 

“Fucking men,” she scoffs, smushing her lips in aggravation. But after a drawn-out silence, she softens and offers sincerity. “Actually? I can respect it. You’re doing something right, at least.”

“Damn well hope so.”

It takes awhile for Dom to respond. But after multiple thoughts sail across her eyes, she sighs, sliding braids across a shoulder. “I’ll do my best to help. But.. We both know something’s gotta give at some point.”

“I know.”

“K.” She walks off with a warning stare. “Hope you know what you’re doing.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond until she’s out of earshot. Because the only one he needs to convince is himself.

“Same.”

That single word is the last to echo through his mind as Yoongi opens his eyes, feeling hardwood floors under his fingers as he tilts his head sideways.

Hold up. How long did he wander? The rest of the team clatters along the bleachers, picking up their bags or changing into dry clothes. 

Jimin spots him looking first. “You gonna join us or stay behind?”

Yoongi puffs out a breath before his eyes find the ground. “Don’t tempt me.”

He means it as a joke. But deep down, he’d rather be anywhere other than home right now. Which is quite the setback since that’s where he’s supposed to get shit done, the place that’s supposed to feel safe. 

This sucks ass.

“Get up, man,” your brother offers with an outstretched hand. “It’s late.” 

The whole time he waits before clasping it in an upward tug, Jimin doesn’t sway his stare. 

And the whole car ride back to his place, Yoongi tries his best to ignore all the long looks aimed his way. 

—

— 

Why do his keys run from him when he truly needs them to cooperate? 

Keys jangling in his hand, Yoongi finally locks his door, fast-walking down the outside hall and making a beeline to his car. 

He doesn’t know how he woke up with no alarm, but he’s grateful he shot up when he did. The studio has a packed schedule today, and he’s the session producer while the others are working on mixes. 

The crisp morning air caresses his skin before he opens a car door, and Yoongi takes a second to observe the sky. 

Overcast. Not as bad as it could be, though he hasn’t seen the Sun in days. 

Truthfully, he hasn’t felt it either after abandoning its warmth in a room far away. 

His engine starts before he makes his way out of the complex, and the soft music from his phone reminds him of you. Reminds him of the empty seat next to him that has seen better days and even better nights. 

After he severed his heart, Yoongi remembers saying goodbye to a few others. But not by choice. The last people he said those words to were the same people he was going to be seeing again bright and early the next day. 

Once again, he’s back to that same night. 

“Hey.”

Yoongi turns, seeing Jungkook gesture out to the front door. When his hairs stand on end, he curses to himself, fighting to show any emotion as he follows the boy outside. 

Whatever happens, he’s not losing to this kid.

But when the door creaks open, Yoongi notices the company with a few blinks. What are Joon and Hobi doing out here? Weren’t they just in the backyard? 

“What’s up,” he asks, and they stop their conversation to shrug. He watches silent as Namjoon points to the youngest one out there,

“He pulled us out. Ask him.”

Huh?

Two thoughts race through the halls of his mind. On one hand, this has to be a studio talk given the present company, so it has nothing to do with you. And second, this could either be bad news or good news, and he really, really needs the latter.

“Good news and bad news,” Jungkook starts. Of fucking course. “We already have another project.”

“Sounds like only good news to me.”

Yoongi nods with Hobi at Namjoon’s quick reply. Because being trapped in his apartment was gonna drive him to the brink. But having something to accomplish and an excuse to go outside? It’s a goddamned godsend. 

“Yeah, well—just listen real quick, okay?” Shifting his weight, Jungkook takes out a slim device to take a sweet-smelling hit. Something he tends to do when he’s getting a little anxious—and Yoongi damn well knows the root of that anxiety from tonight. “This one’s another multi-track recording deal. And we, uhh. We start first thing tomorrow.” 

Hoseok gawks. “Wait. What do you mean tomorrow?” 

Yoongi can’t even hide the matching question on his face. Because yeah he needs the distraction but what the fuck? When the hell was Jungkook gonna tell them? “You didn’t think to tell us sooner?” 

“It all just went through tonight,” Jungkook hastily defends, unlocking his phone to prove himself. The blue light outlines his features, and Yoongi notices with a stinging pang that the boy’s eyes are stained with sorrow. “Lemme just, umm.. Lemme find the email.” 

Seems like all three of you aren’t sleeping well tonight.

But he’s gotta keep focus. Even if the deal just went through, next day start is one hell of a turnaround. There’s gotta be more Jungkook isn’t saying, and Yoongi hopes to everything divine that the kid knows what he’s doing. 

Poor management will break them without so much as a sweat if they aren’t careful with their calendar. 

“Here,” the youngest finally blurts, forwarding all the guys the email and pocketing his phone. “This is the first one.”

“First one?” Namjoon asks, prompting all heads to pop up. “There’s more?”

Shit. One multi-track recording deal is already gonna occupy a lot of studio time. What the hell did Jungkook get them all into? 

“We also have another gig, same type. In about two weeks from now.” 

Two weeks isn’t a lot but it’s doable. And that means Yoongi will have at least fourteen days of temporary daytime relief. 

“But we’re gonna wanna wrap up the first one before then. The other one is high profile. We’ll give these guys all our attention.” 

And that is what sets off a little alarm bell in Yoongi’s head. Shouldn’t they provide everyone that works with them all their focus? Why would they cherry pick if they set the deal? 

Vision blurring into a road instead of your porch, he grips the wheel while checking his back mirror. Wondering how he’s gonna get everything done today. 

Did Jungkook get the workspace ready? Are all the plug-in’s he usually likes already set aside? Is everything connected to the pre-amp’s? 

Yoongi hopes so. He’s lax when it comes to most, but not within the soundproof walls of a studio. 

But he’s gotta be careful. If he ends up butting heads with a certain headstrong kid in there, there’s no telling what comes flying out of that box. 

Clouds float above when he finally drives up to his normal parking space, and Yoongi sits with himself for a second. Thinking. Composing. 

Grateful for anything that’s keeping him from losing his goddamn mind. 

— 

— 

One day, you texted him a song because you miss him. 

And for the next three, he let it loop until he understood every part.

— 

— 

The practices. The more sporadic calls. The studio sessions. 

Everything has proven a much needed distraction from his shadows. But he still has the strongest urge to alleviate the tears he knows he’s causing to just see you for one fucking day and fuck. 

He can’t catch a fucking break. 

You’re trying your hardest to deal with his bullshit distance. Yoongi knows it; he can feel it. Frankly, all he wants to do is come back to you, but he can’t until he moves forward. This is the only way.

However. As soon as he feels like he can step right, another hole hollows the ground.

And this one looks a little too colossal to cross. 

“How long do they wanna book now?” Hoseok thankfully asks for everyone else in the room, referring to the second gig opportunity revealed at your place. 

“Just one more week than planned,” Jungkook confirms, looking at his phone and scratching his head. “But they’re paying good.” 

Namjoon is the next one to speak up, “You still haven’t told us who’s coming.” 

Cheeky as ever, the youngest bursts into a grin. And his response ices the room, “That’s cus it’s still a surprise!” 

What. This isn’t how things are supposed to work. 

Yoongi prods his cheek while Joon groans. “Now’s not the time for surprises. We just got our last mess cleaned up.” 

It’s one of the reasons they’ve been held up in the studio for longer than Yoongi wanted. He absolutely loves being here, smelling the leather and instruments and getting to drown out his thoughts with music. 

But when things that could’ve been avoided go wrong? That’s what pisses him off. 

And not just him. Hobi and Joon have been less than passive about their discontent when all of them weren’t given the full rundown of what samples were cleared and which weren’t. So when Jungkook finally gave them the list that he “thought they knew,” the tension between them all reached a new peak. 

Mistakes like that can cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. They’re lucky it hadn’t gotten to that point of no return yet, but.. water under the fucking bridge just plummeted down another cliff. 

It’s a little while later—after Kook still refused to say who was coming to their fucking studio—that Yoongi heads to the hallway to take out his phone. 

Because as soon as he gets updates? He’s letting you know. 

No surprises for you. Not again. 

Yoongi [17:02]: Just got booked for another week

Yoongi [17:03]: Can’t talk now but

Yoongi [17:03]: Letting you know

Head hitting the wall behind him, Yoongi closes his eyes for what seems like a century. What is time right now anyway? These past few weeks have either been sludge or a rushing current, and both are dragging him under.

He knows he keeps letting you down like this. And you’re probably wondering what the fuck is going on, because why wouldn’t you? 

If you decide to cut things off, he can’t be mad. This was his decision, so he’ll face those consequences no matter how severe they slice through. 

You’re gonna think he’s doing something else. 

Please don’t. He just needs more time. 

Shit, his phone just vibrated twice. Tension mounts his shoulders from pure habit, knowing that he’s gonna be met with either disappointment or wrath. 

Here goes.

Hustler [17:07]: how’s ur back feel from carrying everyone so hard🥴 

Hustler [17:07]: jk its ok<3 you’re getting recognized and it’s about time 

Oh.

…Fuck, you’re really…

Yoongi can physically feel his cheeks lift as he starts to smile. And that smile turns into a quick grin before his relief puffs out of his mouth in a laugh. 

Did you really banish his worry just like that? 

Pushing off the wall, Yoongi huffs once more to the empty hallway before taking two paces to his side, looking at his phone again to make sure what he just read was real. 

It is. 

Fuck, he doesn’t even know what to say. 

Yoongi [17:09]: Lmaoo I’m saying. They better run me my check and cover my hospital bills.

He laughs again. And he doesn’t even know why. It’s not like you said the funniest thing in the world. What’s happening to his chest? 

This is so unlike all the other shit he dealt with before that the joy suddenly meets a monster in his ribs.  

Shit. 

Little pricks of fire light his eyes, searing the corners and spreading to the rest of his face. His little sounds stop, and his back thuds against the hallway wall again. 

Phone at his side, Yoongi glances up at the ceiling. And it’s certainly not to stop anything from falling. Yeah. Sure. 

You’re really something else. 

And his decision to keep you at a safe distance is starting to piss him off.

Maybe it will take less time than he thought. Maybe the shadows won’t linger much longer. Maybe. Maybe maybe maybe not maybe— 

Yoongi [17:11]: Fuck I miss you

He sends it before realizing what he even sent. 

Which catches him off guard, staring at his phone until your typing indicator pops up. Waiting like a man starved until your message slides through. 

Hustler [17:12]: i miss you too.. but focus now and tell me all about it later

One drop. 

One single drop pings onto his screen before Yoongi snaps his head back up, feeling the monster launch itself forward for a kill. 

And he stumbles down the hall, past a few doors, rounding a corner and bursting through a back door into the alleyway before gripping fingers around his phone. 

Fuck, it hurts. 

It all fucking hurts. 

Hunched on his knees, Yoongi breathes rough as fear rushes in from all sides, inundating his head with thoughts of disappointment and trauma. And he can’t even focus focus focus on the now because the past is doing its best to haunt him. Tell him he doesn’t deserve this. Berate him for being happy about anything anything anything he can’t have anything he doesn’t deserve it. 

Yoongi fights to do one thing first. He has to get this out before he’s too far gone because you more than deserve one pathetic act of effort. 

Yoongi [17:15]: Thanks doll

And that’s the last thing Yoongi remembers before his brain goes dark. 

-

-

tbc in fugue, pt. ii

-

so... thoughts before part 2? | join the server! | fugue pt. 2

Holiday Family + the booms... and like 2/3rds of the fake mikes

Lancer's parent's

The TV world

The Dreemurrs

Alphys's students