the dark blue that it not yours to endure

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Yoongi has been following him online for a long while now. Ah, what has it been- five months, perhaps more, less? He didn't know, but it felt both like a lifetime and not enough at the same time.

One of - those- internet bloggers who posted about their lives, knowing only how to talk about themselves, thinking the world cared what kind of moss surrounded their thoughts. Except Jeon Jeongguk was different of course (aren't they all? the ones you fall for?). He just got Yoongi, or did Yoongi get him?

There was this comforting aura about the younger and the shit he posted online. Almost too personal, making the older question if it was even his right to read it, to look at the artwork attached. But the posts Jeongguk made were titled by dates, asking to be compared to Yoongi's own thought flow on the same day, and ended with red- red italic thank you for reading, my loves, and Yoongi couldn't say no.

Jeongguk's artwork centred around contrasts- harsh lines meeting soft words, black ink spilt on white paper pages sewed into his hardback journal. The younger seemingly didn't care about aesthetics or rather made his own- a sense of chaos and disruption, a disorder that left Yoongi feeling fragile yet eased him simultaneously.

Yoongi was the type of person to get attached quite easily, develop crushes left and right, and Jeongguk definitely wasn't his first one, nor did he shy away from the fact that he did indeed have feelings for the other. That was why he tagged along for so long, following his social media. A silly crush. Cute. Not that he had anything better to do with his free time.

And that was how it went on for those couple of months. Jeongguk posted about battling whatever demon that lurked in his mind, and then it was Yoongi's turn with eyes wide open in wonder to lurk the same troubled mind. He never spent time crafting comments, mostly leaving a like and closing the site before opening it a moment later to re-read the post over again.

Now that Yoongi thought about it, there was a chance he was simply too focused on the younger, developing similar thought patterns or knowing what to expect from the blogger/artist. Was it intuition? A psychic connection? Yoongi didn't know. But post after post, he noticed Jeongguk spot on starting to mirror his own ideas and thinking. It was beginning to get creepy, yet alarm was not the feeling that overpowered him.

Yoongi was fully aware that everyone had their issues, their aching pains, regrets and whatnot, and knowing that was healing, encouraging even, comforting. But reading the same hurt, the same longing that took shelter in his soul portrayed in someone else's- someone's he cared for- art was unbearable. That was how his innocent crush had got him cornered.

Because no. The kid did not deserve the same sadness that waived Yoongi's cells together, the dark blue loneliness did not belong to him, it just couldn't. Yoongi wouldn't let it happen.

And so one night after Jeongguk had posted yet another scan from his journal- a blue-lined checkered page smeared with black ink with a face (Yoongi guessed Jeongguk's) sketched on top with a white crayon, eyes closed and crying stars- he snapped. The text beneath the picture read:

"These days have been passing uncontrollably, the mornings bleeding together with the nights, and I keep trying to guess if the stars know my name by now, as I'm looking out the window trying to name their family trees.

To be a part of the space is to be partially hidden. Yet here I am, have been pouring out, burning up in flames, turning to ashes, sticking to shoelaces, screaming, hysterically crying and laughing so loud I flush in embarrassment. Oh, I have never wished to stay hidden, be behind the scenes. My secrets are said out loud confidently, nonchalantly, by-the-way here is who I am, don't step on me, please.