The day his father died, Min Yoongi stopped wondering what more there was to life.
At 16, he was admittedly dull, one young kid yearning for something worthwhile to happen to him. He had friends, but none who hadn't stuck around for the money and benefits that seemed to trail after Yoongi. Or perhaps they preceded him; that's what people saw when they look at him, kids like him: they saw opportunity.
Yoongi couldn't blame them, though he would have liked to. He was surrounded by sharks- people who never looked back- who gladly tore apart lesser beings to survive, so he'd adopted that same attitude. After a while, pretending to be bored morphed into a sneaky apathy that had taken over before he could stop it. Age 12, he was already as cynical as the men and women who worked with his father.
His own father was, to him, an enigmatic personality. Among kings and queens of a ladder-system society, he was the one face that never changed. He was not particularly spectacular in any sense of the word. He was not loud, nor was he any more charismatic than the next man, but for some reason, he was respected. And perhaps that was all a man needed to be.
He could sit atop his cushioned throne in the penthouse of the most expensive buildings and be content, as long as his son was by his side. Yoongi had heard such from the mouth of his father many times. "I only need you, if no one else, son."
The same was to be said for his own self. He payed no mind to this motherless state, he'd never met the woman, and according to snippets whispered behind manner hands, he didn't want to. His father, estranged from the mystery of family, never said a word about the woman. In those days, if his father did not speak of it, it did not exist in his world.
Yoongi did not know feelings of want as a child. At any given time, he was elbow deep in a cedar chest of toys as tall as himself. As he grew, he developed a cultured mind, where music and literature were true companions. He needed not a single person, aside from his father.
"Why haven't you ever asked me about your mother, son? Do you not care that you are different from other children?" His father spoke like he was treading across thin ice to reach out to his child.
Yoongi thought for a moment. And when he looked back over at the man, his mouth twisted up in a humorless grin, "She didn't want me, there's no reason I should feel bad. I did nothing wrong."
And that was the end of the topic of his mother.
Yoongi didn't need anyone to make him happy. All he needed was himself, and the man he owed his life to.
The day his father died, Yoongi stopped needing anything. The world turned to ash and he waited for his time to be up as well.
_
He'd take back any remark made about the day being kind to him.
Twigs and vines he'd carefully maneuvered about earlier snatched and tore at him as he whizzed by, hell bent on putting as much distance himself and whatever thing he had seen behind him. His mind raced to keep up with his heart. The burn in his chest and legs reminded him to keep going, fatigue meant he was travelling further, towards safety.
He became completely ignorant of his direction, whether or not he was only running further into the woods or back the way he came. Frankly, he didn't care. He could call for help later, but only if he managed to live.
He slowed down, his own body beginning to betray him. Just as he tired to a jog, he ran straight into a solid body. Yoongi and his thin frame crumbled to the ground, breathing hard, both from exhaustion and anxiety.
He curled up, eyes shut tight. Silently, he pleaded with whatever was standing before him to go away. He didn't want to die.
Complete silence enveloped them, before a hand settled atop his knee, and voice called his name. "Yoongi?" It was Taehyung.
The vibration of the boy's voice rumbled in his chest and in an instant, he released the tension in his body, coming out of the ball he'd squeezed himself into. He masked any hint of vulnerability, maybe a moment too late, as Taehyung's face held a look of worry. To offset the impression, he punched the kid, too hard, but in that single hit, relief flooded his body. He quelled the urge to throw his arms around the kid. No matter how frightened he was only seconds ago, he would save face in front of his stranger companion.
"We have to go," Yoongi says with finality lacing his tone. He pushes himself off the ground and hooks Taehyung's arm in a tight grasp, pulling him along.
"No, Yoongi wait-"
He spins, stopping so abruptly that Taehyung nearly topples over him. His eyes are wide and his cheeks have drained of all color, despite his body feels feverish and shaky. "Taehyung, I- This is going to sound crazy, but I saw something, and I don't know where it is, so we have to go."
Yoongi pulls his arm, but the boy remains steadfast. His eyes are cast to the ground, the corner of his bottom lip tugged harshly between his teeth. "I know..."
For a moment, Yoongi almost laughs. He's going crazy. Something is so fundamentally wrong he doesn't even know where to begin trying to comprehend everything that has happened. He must be losing his hearing because Taehyung most definitely did not say that; he's misheard, is all.
"Yoongi, its okay. We aren't in danger, I promise you." He smiles, goofy and lighthearted, his hands are delicately placed atop Yoongi's shoulders, hands squeezing in an attempt to comfort and calm him.
Yoongi doesn't know what to think, he doesn't trust the words he hears. "I don't care, I'm not staying here any longer."
"Wait, just hold up a second Yoongi, calm down. You're panicking."
Said boy pushes him back, "No shit! I'm lost in some spooky ass forest with demons or whatever-the-hell that was and you wanna stay and get torn apart by some freaky river monster," he tries to swallow down air, but his lungs feel like giving out.
"I told we, we're completely safe. Nothing is gonna hurt you or me, so just take a deep breath."
Taehyung is eerily calm, and he exudes a warmth Yoongi can't help but wall victim to. His voice settles his mind, all the millions of thoughts vanishing and he can feel his body unwind by the second. A chilly wind brushes by, cooling his clammy face and he can smell wildflowers and sweet honey. He wants to stay on edge, he wants to leave, but he's gone all hazy now that that little feeling is back, whispering into his head that he's safe. He can't deny it.
Ten minutes pass and Yoongi can breathe on his own again, but now he's wary of the kid sitting beside him among the clovers. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"
Taehyung beams at him, tossing aside the leaf he had begun picking apart in the silence and Yoongi only stares back with apprehension. "Yes, but there's someone you have to meet first."
_
unedited
nvm, i am back :)
merry christmas/ happy holidays
