easy loss | namgi

chapter one

The first thing Namjoon figured out about Yoongi was that he loves music. At times when Yoongi couldn't inhale the simplest breaths of air into his lungs because the anxiety had just consumed him entirely, he'd pop in his headphones and play a song.

Namjoon was beguiled by this at first, then as he came to know of the ill-fated and catastrophic habits the other boy possessed, his absorption became distress.

Once he thought about it over millions of times, Namjoon took note that if it had been any other person whose body was smothered in pinkish scars and whose thoughts were diluted with dangerous wills, he wouldn't have wanted to know more.

He'd leave it at that, reluctant to get involved. But Yoongi had been an anybody to basically everyone he had ever encountered, encompassing his immediate family. Then Namjoon enters his harmful world and puts a stop to ignoring him, as if saying, Enough. Yoongi's pain is enough.

As Namjoon takes in the grayish clouds distributed amongst azure sky, as he does every single day, he ponders over this again. Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi. The older boy doesn't leave his mind. He has never exactly thought about it as more than a friendship, and what he had with Yoongi wasn't supposed to be provocative. He was just curious. He has never wanted to grasp the concept of human psychology as much as when he had known about Yoongi's inner struggles.

Even as Namjoon looks to his left, there Yoongi is. He stares at him with light lashes framing dark chocolate pupils, looking younger than he normally does. Yoongi always looks younger than usual when he's sleepy, which unfortunately isn't frequent occurrence.

"Do you want to go back inside, Hyung?" Namjoon murmurs, placing both hands over his eyes, growing drowsy himself.

Yoongi only shakes his head in response. Namjoon decides to let him slowly shut his lids, where his head was still facing Namjoon. He knows that if he were to move the boy a fraction, he would've lost all tiredness that was previously embracing him. Then he'd go back to being restless, and it wouldn't be long for him to turn frantic.

Namjoon heaves a sigh and closes his own eyes.

_______

Namjoon isn't real.

Yoongi knows he isn't, and maybe he's known from the very beginning.

There isn't a soul who would spend a fraction of their time taking care of someone like Yoongi, uncomplaining and lenient, and so, so caring. There are people out there with such gold for hearts, but none of them have come into Yoongi's life. It's not that he doesn't think he's undeserving, but it's just odd.

Nobody is going to come save him out of the blue, and it's something he hasn't accepted unconditionally. It's why he created this being, his own personal savior.

Yoongi doesn't want to perceive himself as delusional, because everyone already has a hurtful and pathetic image of him and the last thing he wants to do is see himself in a negative light.

He doesn't want to hate himself, but maybe it's already too late.

He thinks about all this with his eyes shut, limbs slightly vibrating in agitation. Sleep has always been oddly uncomfortable for him. He felt like he didn't have much time in the world, so seeing it as much as he could was necessary.

As much as he didn't want to, sleep arrived. He'd never admit to the boy beside him that his unwavering breaths were the thing that brought him a peace of mind. Because when Namjoon asked later, Yoongi told him that the birds' chirps and the wind's whisper were the things that drifted him to his empty dreams.