His throat tightened up, pressure building up in his stomach.
He could feel it rising up, bubbling just over his chest. His eyes stung ever so slightly as he tried holding back chocked sobs. His fingers were numb from having been at work for nearly four hours now.
The tiny clock near his bed read 3:46 AM; marking the 36 hours he'd been awake. Sleep seemed like a distant dream now, something which used to come so easily to him was so out of reach. It used to be his coping method as a child on the days he felt terrible, earning him names such as lazy or useless. And even though he acted like he didn't care, the words got to him, ever so slowly mimicking a snowflake. Slowly drifting in the air, floating so weightlessly but eventually crashing into the ground.
So he gave sleep up, he gave it up for music, for writing, for dance practice, for his friends. Yet somehow, they never seemed to notice. The small sacrifices, staying back at the studio to work for a song so the rest of them could enjoy a night in; slipping in an extra piece of bread into one of the boy's plate so could have more to eat. Only it seemed to backfire, the members would often complain of him being too cut off, not even noticing the missing food item which suddenly seemed to have appeared on their plate.
But Yoongi never minded. He loved them too much, even if they would never reciprocate.
The bright melody of the song seemed dull to his ears, the brightly lit computer screen burned his eyes ever so slightly. It was supposed to be a love song for the album after Dark & Wild, although it seemed really far away. He'd rather lock himself up in his studio then go back to the dorm, he didn't want to be somewhere he wasn't wanted.
Fatigue had settled deep in his bones, seeped under his skin, regret merged with his blood cells, his thoughts were laced with a malicious voice he could not recognize yet it seemed so familiar to his.
A sudden notification from his phone lit up the whole room, his exhausted eyes slowly opening to look at the phone which lay on the desk in front of him.
A single text message, from Namjoon. A simple one.
R u ok?
Three words, three small words which may have held no substantial value. Which may have been a complete coincidence or a moral obligation for leaving Yoongi locked up by himself for long, yet they seem to trigger a reaction Yoongi would have been unable to predict himself.
A slight wetness made him realize the tears which seemed to flow from his eyes. His fingers suddenly seemed to stop mid-way, his hands trembling. A sudden flood of emotions seemed to burst through his chest, and suddenly it felt as though he could not breathe. Coughs and sobs came out together in one ugly mixture as he dug his face into his palms.
He was so tired, tired of everything.
Tried of failing, tired of never being good, tired of never trying hard enough, tired of disappointing everyone. He was tired of letting everyone down, he was tired of the words his brain through at him, digging through his pale skin, leaving scars which no one except for himself could see. He was so tired, tired of his friends being unable to see what was eating away at him, leaving a shell of the boy he used to be. He was tired of cutting himself up to please the people around him and yet, being unable to do so. He was tired of existing.
He wanted to scream, no-no, he wasn't okay, he hasn't been okay in a long time, such a long time that he doesn't remember who he is without his sadness anymore. He doesn't know how to live without voices judging everything he does. He doesn't know who he is anymore, he isn't sure he has ever known himself. He hates himself, he can't stand himself. The only reason he is still alive is because he can't die.
Tentatively, he reached out. Gingerly picking up the phone and staring at the text. Until the words seemed to be imprinted under his eyelids. Almost in slow motion, he began typing. His fingers trembled, his text littered with typos, but he couldn't bother to correct them.
ym oksy
He pressed send before quickly burying himself in his arms. His sobs had quieted down by now, yet he couldn't stop the steady flow of tears leaking out of his eyes. He folded into himself, he only had himself to keep the cold out.
His phone pinged again, hesitantly he looked over to it. Namjoon had replied.
R u drunk?
Hesitantly, he typed out another reply.
no, jst lonily
He didn't know why he typed that, he should have just lied again, told namjoon that he was fine. He didn't know what possessed him, it was as if his hands had a brain of their own. He was so lonely, so isolated from everyone, he craved human touch, he craved it from anyone. He just wanted to be held, just wanted someone to be there for him, he just wanted someone, anyone.
Too bad he's got no one.
im coming over, stay in your studio
Namjoon's unread text lit up the phone screen but Yoongi was too busy to notice, too lost in his own mind to care what was happening around him. No longer did the line separating the walls and floors exist, every color merged into other. Blacks and blues swirled around with lilac and red, the soft hum of music had faded into the background. The computer screen which previously had lit up the dark room suddenly wasn't so bright anymore. His eyes couldn't focus on anything, everything was nothing and nothing was everything at the same time.
He had slipped into the state of being where living and dying wad the same thing. His emotions had pushed him over the edge. It was as if he were floating in space at the same time he was drowning. There was water everywhere around him yet he was dry. The abundance of oxygen around him seemed to have disappeared, yet he could breathe just fine. The moon and the stars seemed so close by his window, that if he just leaned towards it just a little bit more, reached out towards the sky then he could touch it. The warm yet battered rug under his feet suddenly felt like rocks and gravel, as if he were walking on the roads of Atlantis. Sunken so much into the depth of abyss, he could not see daylight anymore.
He was lost within his own mind.
So lost that he didn't even notice when the small door creaked open, light pouring in through and illuminating the dark room. It was as if Yoongi was stuck in the darkness and Namjoon had bought in light in his life.
It took Namjoon a minute to get adjusted to the dark lighting, finally spotting Yoongi who sat folded in his chair, arms resting against the cold oak wood, head buried in his arms. Cautiously, he made his way towards the small boy. His steps were not exactly light per se but Yoongi paid no heed to him. Unable to hear anything above the gasping for breath and quiet sobs.
Namjoon stood in front of him, unsure of what to do. He knew something was wrong when Yoongi didn't come to the dorm. Hoseok had told him he went to the studio to work on something Hoseok was too tired to care about. The rest of the guys had barely managed to strip off their clothes before they were either fast asleep or laying on the couch, stuffing store-bought sandwiches in their mouths. Namjoon knew Yoongi was hard-working, to put it in simple terms but he also knew that no one in their right mind would go back to work after such an intense training even if they were Min Yoongi.
So he did what a good leader, a good person and a good friend should do. He checked up on Yoongi, unease coiling in his stomach. Texts from Yoongi didn't calm him either, only further succeeding in making him nervous. So he grabbed his wallet, phone and threw on a jacket. Quickly scrambling to the streets to catch a cab, leaving a note for the rest of them.
His heart thumped against his chest, as his hand slowly reached out towards Yoongi. Hesitantly, he placed his palm on Yoongi's back. Startled by the sudden warmth on his back, Yoongi jolted up. His eyes, glassy and bloodshot, searched around frantically for the source of warmth before landing on Nmajoon.
Namjoon with his ever-so comforting smile and reassuring look, his warm arms where Yoongi would be safe. Wordlessly, Namjoon looked into his eyes, seeing the defeated and broken boy he would never recognize as Yoongi, he enveloped him in a hug. His muscular arms wrapped tightly around the smaller boy; rubbing circles in an attempt to calm him down.
And Yoongi broke.
His tears soaked Namjoon's shirt, mixed with snot as he hid his face in Namjoon's shirt. Inhaling the scent of fresh mint and smoke (which came from the washing powder Nmajoon used) certainly did calm him down.
And even though Yoongi's throat was raw, his eyes were stinging, his chest was constricted, his breaths were short gasps and hiccups kept interrupting whatever he was trying to say, Yoongi had never felt so safe. Just knowing that Nmajoon had him, even if it was temporary, was comforting. Knowing that he was safe with his joonie, that Namjoon would protect him from the harsh glares, the judgemental whispers or the cruel voice in his head; was more than what he could ever ask for.
And even if it was just for a moment, Yoongi had never felt the feeling of home as much as he felt in his arms.
hello, ik this chapter is not very good, but this was the best i could produce right now. sorry! and thank you so much for reading :) also, this is not edited, so sorry for the mistakes.