quiet ➫ yoongi-centric

1.0

Slow, heavy footsteps echo on the cement as Yoongi makes his way into the bustling city streets.

He wears a black mask and a beanie to hide his red, puffy eyes and conceal his identity.

The streets bustle, the bright lights of Seoul hurt his eyes slightly, the loud chatter and the general chaos of the crowd around him falls on deaf ears. His fingers shake slightly, a dull ache present in his chest. It hurts to move, but Yoongi must get back to the dorm before it's too dark.

All the joints in his body hurt from the strenuous dance practice, his eyes hurt from his messed up sleeping schedule and excessive crying habits. His mid-section throbs with every step he takes and the pounding in his head is a bitter reminder of his poisonous thoughts. It hurts so much, to walk, to speak, to hear, to breath, it hurts to exist.

A car zooms past him, honking loudly, but Yoongi doesn't hear anything. The neon lights of the small street shops burn his eyes but he doesn't feel it. The usual salivating smell of spicy rice cakes, korean fried chicken and korean dumplings seems to suffocate him now. Now that his appetite has been reduced to a measly apple and maybe some rice a day, nothing seems appetizing anymore. All those snacks he used to look at lustfully as he held on the change in his hands, evaluating the pros and cons of using his money to either eat or take the bus home, during trainee days; no longer seemed as delicious anymore.

Yoongi wanted to laugh at that. Now that he had a bit of money to afford food and transport he no longer wanted it. He forced his tired and worn down legs to carry his heavy body back to his bed, ignoring his growling stomach and the occasional pang- a reminder from his organs, begging his brain to take care of them. The numbness from his heart had spread to his brain, stopping all production of any sensible thoughts. Stopping the production of any thoughts, actually. Yoongi's mind was empty, shattered, hollowed-out, vacant, desolate. He wasn't thinking about anything, his muscles running purely due to muscle memory and instincts. His eyes are like a broken recorder, everything is seen but nothing is really observed. His mind doesn't store anything, just blurry black dots encasing the corners of his eyes and blurring his vision to the very slightest. He could not distinguish any sound, laughter and shrieking sounded the same to him, the crying of an infant or the snoring of the homeless man held no difference.

▲

He pushed the door open, only to be greeted by pitch darkness. The light poured in from behind him as he stood in the doorway, completely still for a moment. His shadow later in front of him, a mass of darkness among the light on the floor, a symbol of his existence. His shadow seemed to stretch endlessly in front of him, making him feel small to the darkness, tiny helpless. No matter how fast Yoongi would run, the darkness-his own shadow- would always be in front of him.

A small thud snapped yoongi out of his thoughts, eyes wide and alert looking into the darkness to vaguely make out a figure. He could hear a small sigh and a barely audible mutter of "ah, shit" before the figure began to move again.

The figure was large, with enormous shoulders and at least 5 inches on Yoongi; giving away who exactly this dark outline was.

Jin's facial expression finally became visible to Yoongi, due to him finally stepping into his line of vision. Jin's normally cherry face was now dull, laced with sleep and fatigued entirely. His eyes held a certain familiarity which comforted Yoongi, yet the rigidness between his shoulders  intimidated Yoongi a bit. He knew the members would never intentionally physically harm him, but if they wanted, Yoongi was gone even before the fight started. So Yoongi asserted his own dominance in the only way he knew of, a stern voice and cold attitude- which the members had grown immune to by now, but it was still scary from time to time.