waking dream;

(...)

He caught Yoongi leaving the AOMG building, which meant he was going somewhere, but considering what he just said about skipping work to be able to talk to him, it probably meant that he also wasn’t going home, so they should leave the doorstep of the other’s work to talk. “Uh- Were you going somewhere before I stopped you? Maybe can we have some lunch together and talk if you’re free now?” he asked, trying not to ask for too much given what his presence itself caused.

they were never particularly the touchy - feeely type of people, but yoongi REALLY wanted to hug the elder. yes, he was still shocked, dead people just don’t come back and try to explain their deaths. ( if that was the case, his old man might be paying him a visit at some point too ) the funeral... he remembers it like it was yesterday. the numbness covering his body like a yellow shock blanket, soporific yet not comforting at all. 

he had never thought of seokjin as being guilty. even having only known the man for a few years, yoongi was sure that he couldn’tve killed bunny. yet he had never questioned if his old friend was alive or not. yoongi was more preoccupied with his PERSONAL affairs at the time, so that did make sense. 

(...)

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he claims unintentionally sternly, hence not too persuasively, what might undergo some over-interpretation, since in the past he didn’t hold back when his fist was itching. Instantly he leans over to reach the knob and stop the upcoming flood before bending down in an attempt to tentatively approach the younger again, hopefully without causing him greater baseless fear. “Will you tell me what happened?” Choosing not to attack him with his assumptions, Jiyong speaks more warmly and gingerly moves in his direction.

his throat burns in the same way that his eyes ache after crying for such an extended period of time. trembling && sluggish as if he was but a dead thing left underwater, ABANDONED. slowly, the pain was registering as the hysteria cleared away, bit by bit. slowly, his brain processes that he wasn’t in imminent danger of being hit. time is rendered meaningless as he tries desperately to calm himself down, taking ragged breaths. one in. one out. his body is still trembling badly, but the coldness seeping into him via his drenched clothing is ignored, much like the self-inflicted wounds. 

yoongi freezes as the elder leaned over him, but he was only turning the running water off. gritting his teeth together in a last ditch effort, yoongi still made a whimper as he started to cry again. burning fluid sliding down his face, lit by humiliation && fear. the very image of pathetic. where is the famous producer? where is the quietly intelligent second son of the min family? where is a man who has his life together? all of that is GONE under the scrutiny of the white bathroom lighting. his phone, still tossed a few feet away, still shone traitorously. wordlessly, he pointed towards the device, the screen still showing the post. 

“ it’s over. ”

(...) “So Raven, can I make the assumption you’re into the arts,” Minseok’s tone had a hint of “ I already know the answer to it”. “Because of that fantastic sense of fashion and flawless taste in eye makeup can’t be from the void. You’re a designer? artist?”

“ that’s an awfully cynical view on the elites of seoul... but I simply cannot bring myself to disagree. ” yoongi shot back, grinning. he agreed wholeheartedly though; societal obligations had brought the two of them to this night && now was the perfect opportunity to engage and disengage in some meaningless chatter- meaningless but still meaningful compared to the drivel they would’ve been subjected to had they not departed. and the other statement... honesty? a hard ask for many- himself included.