Trying to behave

Chapter 4

July 2014

The nightmares are bad again.

Yoongi's been sitting on the living floor for what feels like decades, chest heaving and eyes that won't stop spilling over with hot tears. He hurts everywhere, and his skin is burning up but he can't bring himself to stop shaking and maybe jump into a cold shower. He can't get the dream out of his head.

He can't get him out of his head.

An anguished cry escapes his mouth before he can stop himself and he brings the soju bottle down onto the hardwood floor as hard as he can, yelling when the broken glass cuts his palm.

'Get out!' Yoongi screams, fisting his hair in his good hand and crying out when the spilled alcohol sinks into the wound. 'Get the fuck out!'

He faintly picks up shuffling in the other room over the rush in his ears and whimpers out a sigh, scream dying in his throat. Seokjin's going to kill him. And he wants him to. Yoongi wants someone to just kill him and get it the fuck over with.

With trembling hands, he sets what's left of the bottle down and lies down on the floor beside it, lips dry and face wet. He vaguely wonders if he's having a seizure because he won't stop twitching; listens to the approaching footsteps and closes his eyes, clenches his injured palm.

'Yah! Min Yoongi, what the fuck?'

Yoongi winces because Seokjin's too fucking loud. And then he whimpers because he's in desperate need of a hug all of a sudden.

'It's-,' he starts through cracked lips and chokes up; tries again. 'It's nothing,'

The older boy clicks his tongue in disapproval and then there's a hand in Yoongi's hair, soothingly massaging the fading green locks. He sighs in relief and whimpers when he realises he has the world's biggest headache that he didn't even notice.

'You don't have to lie to me,' Seokjin mutters, feeling his forehead and gently opening his fist, touch almost like he's handling an injured child. And that's what Yoongi feels like; an injured overgrown child.

'I'm sorry,' he whispers, wincing when Seokjin's fingers brush the cut. 'I'm sorry for, I'm sorry for all this,'

'Aish,' the older boy laughs and Yoongi opens an eye to look up at him; he's smiling gently, with a hint of sadness, staring at the broken bottle and then at his bloody palm. 'How many times have I told you not to apologise?'

Yoongi opens his mouth but talking's hard so he doesn't bother replying, settles on a shaky shrug; lets Seokjin clean the mess around him and then his hand and falls asleep sometime around when the older boy's wrapping it up in bandages.

Yoongi wakes up in his own bed after a thankfully dreamless sleep and is grateful when Seokjin doesn't bring the past night up at breakfast, looking at him carefully only two times before he determines that the younger boy feels better.

He does feel a bit better; his headaches mostly gone and his eyes have dried up. It's easier right now, to pretend to be interested in whatever bullshit Namjoon's talking about, probably something about the England trip he's all hyped for. It's also easier to crack a smile and pretend to enjoy Seokjin's shitty soup; it's always like that after a particularly bad night. Maybe it's the left over emptiness that numbs him. Maybe it's the hangover.

Either way, it's easier some days than most. Yoongi's grateful that Namjoon doesn't bring his injured hand up. He's grateful for when it's easy. He's grateful for them.

January 2012

'I need something to do,' Yoongi announces from where he's sprawled on the couch; he's been blankly staring at the same spot on the ceiling for the past hour. 'Why won't school start? Why is this break so long? I need to forget,'