Butterfly - BTS

Chapter Nine

After Jungkook's funeral, I had known that Bangtan had only two destinies to be fulfilled. Either we stopped there and became stronger, or we all died.

I had been hoping that it would be the former. All of the boys had witnessed each other with broken hearts. Maybe they wouldn't even think of doing that to each other. Maybe we could ride out the storm on the impregnable bond that we shared.

But we weren't all that strong.

It was Yoongi.

The company had let us take another break, and we all went to the counsellors the company provided to its trainees and idols. We'd all needed someone to put things into perspective, but Yoongi had to go to a therapist outside of the company because Jungkook's death had traumatized him the most. He was the one who had been the closest to saving him and had witnessed him die from mere steps away. He had cradled Jungkook's dead body in his arms. If that didn't traumatize Yoongi, I didn't
know what would.

He left every Sunday and Thursday to go to therapy. It usually took two hours or so, and Yoongi usually returned with the groceries as nonchalant as possible. He'd never liked to draw attention to his weaknesses, even though we understood.

I didn't know if therapy was helping him. One probably couldn't tell that Yoongi had gone through so much; he acted the same, but quieter, but I'd known better. He had been trying to be strong, and I was afraid that the cap he'd kept on his emotions would cause him to explode.

It was a quiet explosion that killed him, one that no one saw coming until we had gotten hit with the shrapnel.