lucky charms ✧･ﾟ y.m [book 1]

*seventy-nine*

The wall that he'd once curled up against, bloody and bruised, his father angrily grabbing his coat and keys, on his way to work after abusing the only son he had left.

Yoongi let out a shaky breath, tears streaming down his cheeks. His feet carried him forward anyway. Past the kitchen, past the living room, down the hallway.

He was, once again, in his beloved piano room, a fine layer of dust covering the top of what was once a beautiful, shiny piano, but not its keys. As always, the piano had gleaming keys, black and white, looking as though they'd never been touched.

Yoongi could remember the thin white curtains moving in the breeze, long enough to sweep the collecting dust on the floor.

The windows were open, as usual, the dust on the floor mixing with the stagnant rainwater, collecting in sad little puddles.

Yoongi didn't close the windows, though, not this time. He wasn't sure why.

Instead, he left, making his way out of the room and down the hall. Down, down, down, until he found himself in his older brother's bedroom. It was in the same condition Seunghwan had left it in before he'd killed himself.

Yoongi hadn't been in his hyung's room since that day.

The bed was unmade, atypical of his brother. His desk was cluttered with pens, papers and books strewn all over the floor. That was his father's doing.

A tear slipped down Yoongi's cheek at the memory.

Seunghwan loved filling his room with memories, pictures and little pieces of paper taped all over his walls as far as Yoongi could remember. He walked further into the cold, abandoned room. Pictures decorated his room. Colorful, happy pictures. Pictures of Seunghwan and Yoongi at the park, Yoongi laughing as Seunghwan gave him a piggyback ride. Pictures of Seunghwan at his elementary school graduation, of him eating a slice of cake with Yoongi in a pretty café, of the two of them playing together in a field of wildflowers. These were all taken by their mother, Yoongi realized.

Yoongi left the room soon after, suddenly feeling a bit dizzy. It was surreal, being in his childhood home, the place now that lived only in the nightmares he still got from time to time.

Was that what this was?

Another nightmare?

A loud thud echoed from the living room, making him jump. Then another. Yoongi whimpered in fear, clutching the hem of his hoodie to keep his hands from trembling.

The sound of the front door opening had Yoongi's blood running cold.

"Yoongi, I know you're here," a voice called lowly, the hint of steeliness in the person's tone making Yoongi want to run. Scream. Hide. Anything. Yet he stood still, as if paralyzed, unable to move.

"You're making things worse for yourself," his father, his biological father, laughed dryly. "You really think you can hide from me, boy?"

He needed to run.

The footsteps were getting louder. His father was getting closer. Yoongi couldn't move. He let out a choked sob, his eyes shutting tightly in fear.