When he finally reached his building, everything was as usual. The door kept making that deafening screech, there were still cracks in the floor and he kept having to climb the stairs to access his apartment - this time the elevator was stopped for maintenance. It felt as if he had returned from a long vacation and nothing had happened, as if the building itself had remained unchanged.

Opening the door to his apartment, he did so slowly. He remembered what the interior of the apartment was like before that shadow woman had appeared, but with everything that had happened afterwards, besides his loss of consciousness, he didn't know exactly what to expect. After opening the door, the first thing he did was turn on the light, because in the morning the sunlight had not yet made an appearance.

Considering all the fuss the shadows had caused while he was hiding in the bathroom, he thought the place would be much worse than it was. What stood out most was the mess on the floor, a mix of broken glass, ripped fabrics, and pieces of wood. The walls had some marks from when objects were thrown at it and the paint was cracked in places, nothing that couldn't be fixed with a little plaster and a coat of paint. The kitchen cabinets had their doors shattered, as if someone had hit them with an ax, and others were held together by a hinge that was about to fall off. The refrigerator, miraculously, was still in place, but it was warped everywhere I looked.

As expected, the room that served as a study was the one that had suffered the most. The interior was a conglomerate of cables, housings, chips, and plastic; all irretrievable. His bedroom was for a style, with the mattress against one wall of the room and ripped open, making the springs and overstuffed interior visible. What they left of his clothes were scattered on a mountain of wood chips of different shades, probably a mix from his closet and desk, and the head of his bed. He didn't bother to look in the computer's direction, knowing it was just as useless as all his equipment. He could safely say that the bathroom was the only thing left intact.

With a deep inspiration, he opened the two windows that the apartment had: one in his bedroom and one in the living room. After doing this, he took the supplies he had brought with him to clean.

He started in the kitchen, finishing taking the cabinet doors apart before they fell off on their own and placing them on the counter. After that, he started sweeping the floor to get rid of all the trash and give the place a more orderly appearance.

He didn't know how long it had been since it started, but Yoongi was forced to stop, tired, drenched in sweat, and slightly frustrated. Quite frustrated. Objectively, he had come a long way. The mountain of the living room had decreased while the amount of garbage bags that accumulated between the entrance and the kitchen had increased. The metallic and electronic things he had collected in his study; the wooden ones he had gathered in a pile in one corner of the room; All the clothes, and blankets and towels, had been put in garbage bags, since there was nothing that would work.

He had come a long way, but every time he looked around, all he saw was disaster; they organized it in different areas, but that was not how the interior of a house, of his house, should look like. He felt overwhelmed, and the air coming through the windows was not enough. Although he was leaning against the kitchen counter to take a break, his breathing was only shaking, and he had the feeling that his apartment was getting smaller.

"Fuck."

Trying to control his breathing through deep breaths, Yoongi opened the door to his apartment and leaned against the wall outside. Then he slid to the ground, where he gathered his legs and leaned forward, resting his head on his knees and trying to calm his ragged breathing.

Looking for support, or something to entertain himself other than the mess at home, Yoongi took his gem in his hands. He felt like he was about to cry, although he didn't know exactly why. Obviously, the state of his house was far from pleasant and that overwhelmed him, but this feeling of helplessness took over the rest of his thoughts, and the worst thing is that he did not know why he felt that way.

"Please." He whispered softly, not realizing what he had said until the words left his lips.

He just wanted this oppressive feeling that prevented him from breathing normally to go away. He didn't know why he had said those words if there wasn't even anyone around who could help him; he was alone, in front of a disorganized and uninhabitable apartment, on the verge of crying and having an anxiety attack.

His gem was out of control, he could feel it; It went from being cold for a few seconds to then warming up, and Yoongi felt like it was throbbing. Although that could be because of the firm grip he had on it, which made his pulsations more noticeable.

However, the instability that his gem had been experiencing until then came to a complete stop. Realizing this, Yoongi looked down at his hands encircling the pink crystal, and his breath hitched briefly at what he saw. The gem which seconds before was out of control, had a faint pink glow, and if Yoongi looked closely, he could see how its interior seemed to move; as if it had a slightly thick liquid substance that was moving smoothly in different directions, as if someone was stirring inside it.

Yoongi couldn't do anything other than watch rapt at what was happening. It was something surprisingly wonderful and beautiful that seemed to hypnotize him, taking him to a state of tranquility without him being aware of it. He wondered if Jungkook had something to do with this or if his gem had found the balance it needed on its own. However, before he could ask more questions, a voice called out to him.

"Yoongi-ssi?" It was the voice of a woman. He didn't know who it belonged to, but it seemed vaguely familiar.

Yoongi raised his head to face his neighbor, Mrs. Choi. Although the two of them lived on the same floor, Ms. Choi's house was at the other end of the hall. Because of this, Yoongi and she would coincide when he came home, and she went out for a walk, sometimes alone and other times with her husband. I didn't know them very much, but they were nice enough people who didn't meddle in other people's business, nor did they spend the day behind the peephole in the door snooping who was coming in with whom and at what time.

"Oh, I knew it!" The woman said with a smile when she could see Yoongi's face completely.



This story belongs to @nometoloko on AO3. I'm just her translator.

I dedicate this chapter to theworldofwords06 because they commented and voted on every single chapter for me. Also, their comments made my day. Thank you, 😁😇. 

More of a filler chap. Hope you liked it.

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