Slow, heavy footsteps echo on the cement as Yoongi makes his way into the bustling city streets.
He wears a black mask and a beanie to hide his red, puffy eyes and conceal his identity.
The streets bustle, the bright lights of Seoul hurt his eyes slightly, the loud chatter and the general chaos of the crowd around him falls on deaf ears. His fingers shake slightly, a dull ache present in his chest. It hurts to move, but Yoongi must get back to the dorm before it's too dark.
All the joints in his body hurt from the strenuous dance practice, his eyes hurt from his messed up sleeping schedule and excessive crying habits. His mid-section throbs with every step he takes and the pounding in his head is a bitter reminder of his poisonous thoughts. It hurts so much, to walk, to speak, to hear, to breath, it hurts to exist.
A car zooms past him, honking loudly, but Yoongi doesn't hear anything. The neon lights of the small street shops burn his eyes but he doesn't feel it. The usual salivating smell of spicy rice cakes, korean fried chicken and korean dumplings seems to suffocate him now. Now that his appetite has been reduced to a measly apple and maybe some rice a day, nothing seems appetizing anymore. All those snacks he used to look at lustfully as he held on the change in his hands, evaluating the pros and cons of using his money to either eat or take the bus home, during trainee days; no longer seemed as delicious anymore.
Yoongi wanted to laugh at that. Now that he had a bit of money to afford food and transport he no longer wanted it. He forced his tired and worn down legs to carry his heavy body back to his bed, ignoring his growling stomach and the occasional pang- a reminder from his organs, begging his brain to take care of them. The numbness from his heart had spread to his brain, stopping all production of any sensible thoughts. Stopping the production of any thoughts, actually. Yoongi's mind was empty, shattered, hollowed-out, vacant, desolate. He wasn't thinking about anything, his muscles running purely due to muscle memory and instincts. His eyes are like a broken recorder, everything is seen but nothing is really observed. His mind doesn't store anything, just blurry black dots encasing the corners of his eyes and blurring his vision to the very slightest. He could not distinguish any sound, laughter and shrieking sounded the same to him, the crying of an infant or the snoring of the homeless man held no difference.
▲
He pushed the door open, only to be greeted by pitch darkness. The light poured in from behind him as he stood in the doorway, completely still for a moment. His shadow later in front of him, a mass of darkness among the light on the floor, a symbol of his existence. His shadow seemed to stretch endlessly in front of him, making him feel small to the darkness, tiny helpless. No matter how fast Yoongi would run, the darkness-his own shadow- would always be in front of him.
A small thud snapped yoongi out of his thoughts, eyes wide and alert looking into the darkness to vaguely make out a figure. He could hear a small sigh and a barely audible mutter of "ah, shit" before the figure began to move again.
The figure was large, with enormous shoulders and at least 5 inches on Yoongi; giving away who exactly this dark outline was.
Jin's facial expression finally became visible to Yoongi, due to him finally stepping into his line of vision. Jin's normally cherry face was now dull, laced with sleep and fatigued entirely. His eyes held a certain familiarity which comforted Yoongi, yet the rigidness between his shoulders intimidated Yoongi a bit. He knew the members would never intentionally physically harm him, but if they wanted, Yoongi was gone even before the fight started. So Yoongi asserted his own dominance in the only way he knew of, a stern voice and cold attitude- which the members had grown immune to by now, but it was still scary from time to time.
Yoongi's face morphed into a emotionless look, eyes devoid of any feeling except neutral displeasure.
"Yoongi-ah"
His name slipped out of Jin's mouth like honey, yet his voice held a bitter tone to it. The voice of a defeated, exhausted mother, wanting her young son to just listen to her for once.
"Hello hyung"
"Where were you? It's nearly 2 am and you weren't at the studio- i checked with the security guard."
"Why does it matter? It's not like we have any plans for tomorrow till like noon."
"Yoongi, that's not the point."
Yoongi could hear the weariness in Jin's voice, he was exhausted too after such a long day. All he wanted was some time to sleep, but how could he sleep in peace knowing yoongi was still outside, wandering the streets, all alone in this big city. The idea of anything happening to him was enough to keep him awake. As their hyung, he needed to know his dongsaengs were safe at all times, it was his main responsibility as the eldest, to care for everyone equally.
Yoongi sighed, even though Yoongi was going through stuff, Jin didn't deserve to bear his cynical coldness. Seokjin was one of the most selfless, caring and hardworking man he had ever met. It was rare to see a soul caring for others too, without considering one's selfish needs at all. And yoongi knew the countless hours Jin had spent on vocal coaching considering he had no experience when he joined, sometimes spending hours straight at practising the same songs, his throat raw and painful. And he knew the additional hours Jin spent on polishing his dance moves. Even though jin didn't stand out like Hoseok or Jimin, he made sure he was good enough to add the glamour they had on stage, not bring it down. Yoongi admires this man a lot, to take care of six strangers is not an easy feat yet he managed to do it. Took care of the whole band until they became family. Worked hard to turn the cold dorm room into a warm home, give his inputs in songs to make them better, his beautiful voice enhancing the songs and his beautiful face attracting strangers from far wide.
Yoongi forced himself to answer, "I'm sorry hyung, i went out for dinner with Taehyung and Jungkook and decided to take a walk after dinner."
Seokjin sighed again, in a tone yoongi couldn't recognise. Maybe it was disappointment or anger? annoyance? Yoongi night never know.
"Yoongi-ah, I know, I know, you are grown up now and that your the second oldest and blah, blah, blah, but you better listen to me clearly and carefully. You are still my dongsaeng, and as my dongsaeng, it is my responsibility to make sure you are safe and fine. Now why didn't you tell hyung? A call would have sufficed, yoon."
It's been a while since Seokjin has used that nickname and all the will to fight inside yoongi has evaporated. He just feels so tired, so exhausted that he just wants to hug his hyung and sleep in his arms. He craves the warmth of a human body, seeks comfort in the rhythmic beating of a human heart, he just wants to be lulled away in a place where no one but only him and his friends exist; where he can be himself and express his thoughts without worrying.
Seokjin beats him to it.
His long, sweater clad arms wrap around Yoongi's neck. His comforting warmth contrast with Yoongi's chilling body temperature. Yoongi can feel Jin's head buried in his hair, as the grip around him tightens. Even though Yoongi's face is smushed against Jin's shoulder and his breathing is slightly depressed, Yoongi doesn't want Jin to let go.
Slowly he brings his arms up to wrap around Jin too, and they stand there. Somewhere between the doorway, half in darkness, half illuminated at the dead of night- a time where only they exist, an universe with only them; a place Yoongi likes to call home.
▲
Yoongi wraps the blanket around him a little bit tighter, trying to recreate the warmth of Seokjin's arms.
It's been a while since that night, yet Yoongi doesn't not have the courage to ask for another hug. So he settles for the next best thing, his thin, wool blanket- the one he knitted with his grandma a few years back. It's am faded shade of light yellow with lace trimmings and a small 'Min Yoongi' etched on the left corner. It took him the whole summer vacation to knit it, back when he was a mere little middle schooler. He remembers his naive, innocent self sitting with his grandma on the wooden bed, knitting as the TV played whatever drama his grandma was then obsessed with. It was fun, they'd take tea breaks and munch on biscuits as they compared their progress, talking about the dumb protagonist or the evil antagonist.
He misses his grandma, the old lady was small and fragile yet tough and ready to fight at any given time. She was the only one who supported his dream, the only one who didn't tell him to pick a easier line; she just smiled at him before patting his back. Yoongi remembers what she told him that day, word for word.
"Do whatever you want, Yoonie, whatever makes your little heart happy and your life worth living."
He really does miss her.
He rolls out of the bed, his back aching and joints protesting. They had a concert yesterday, marking the end of promotions of Dark And Wild.
It's a free day, a break before they begin preparing for end of year performances and the next album. They have a meeting with Bang PD to discuss the concept of the new album in approximately 26 hours.
26 hours of absolutely no responsibilities and only rest.
Too bad Yoongi can't go back to sleep, slowly making his way out to the tiny living room. He sees Hoseok and Namjoon sleeping peacefully, loud snoring muffled from the blanket pulled over their faces. They look so pure and at peace that Yoongi remembers how young they actually are. How they have dedicated the most important years of their youth to this, all their hopes and ambitions, all their time and effort- all will go down the drain if they fail, if they stop. Somehow that fills him with an indescribable rage, not the rage which urges to destroy, but to create. The rage which forces him to push the world back harder, to keep pushing until he makes it, because he knows if he stops even for a moment; the world will destroy him. It will trample over him and the band, crush them under its cruel thumb- if he stops pushing back, the world will throw him off, into a place of pure oblivion- the graveyard of failures.
He lives because he can not die, he fights because he can not afford to be crushed.
The screams coming from the maknae line leaves him with enough clues to assume that they have been up for quite a while. Yoongi plops down on the couch, his old phone clutched in his hands as listens to the combined screaming of the younger ones and Seokjin (who is no better than the actually maknae, moments like these are when Yoongi actually forgets that he is actually Yoongi's only hyung in the group).
They had just received their pay for the month,
the small transaction text had the power to light up the entire house even after they all were exhausted having finished so many concerts and then flying back to Korea.
December 21 2014
₩900000.24 has been transacted to account number xxx-xxx51 at 3:24 AM by account number xxx-xxx43
For further inquires, please contact number 23xx-xxx-xx
NOTE: This is an automated message, please don't send inquires on this number.
Yoongi stares at the message, a few years back Yoongi would have not hesitated to kill if it meant he would this same amount of money in his bank account, yet now, he feels no form of enjoyment or satisfaction. His eyes hold a blank expression as if he were just looking at his schedule. His eyes turn to Jungkook, whose dancing in front of him, holding his own little phone and waving it around. Jimin looks at him from where he is seated on the floor, near the coffee/dining table, a wide smile on his face. Jungkook's supposed to finish his school work in the free time, but he's too excited and happy to care; just like his awake hyungs (not including Yoongi).
"Hyung!! Let's go shopping! Let's celebrate hyungie~" Taehyung jumps over to Jin, falling on his knees and begging.
Jin fakes a thoughtful expression before bursting into laughter and nodding his head.
As if on cue, all the three maknaes let out a final shriek of happiness, the loudest one of the morning, loud enough to wake up Hoseok and Namjoon who come rushing into the room, ready to fight.
Hoseok holds his pillow in a defensive manner, blurry, sleep clad eyes trying to make out who was the intruder. Namjoon had managed to drag his own blanket with him, string along a bunch of fallen items- including his own phone which now held a crack on the top left corner.
It took them both a good minute to understand the scenario, to which they let out exasperated groans each.
"YAH! Don't scream like that so early in the morning unless you're getting murdered!"
"It's too early for you guys to act like kindergartens high on a sugar rush-"
"Honestly, Jin-hyung, at least you would be more mature considering how old you are, but no, you wanna act like the fourth member of the maknae line."
Namjoon had the neutral face of displeasure while Hoseok looked a minute away from popping a vein.
"YAH! I'm not that old! You disrespectful kids! I cook for you and you all call me old! Such disrespect? In my household? It's more likely than you think!"
Seokjin piped in when Namjoon personally attacks him, speaking in his own exaggerated fashion- making his ranting and the whole situation seem even funnier. Everyone's in a good mood, the maknaes' eyes are crinkled due to their large smiles; Namjoon's dimples peek through as he lets out a soft smile and Hoseok fails at hiding his laughter. Even yoongi had a hint of a smile peeking through.
It was a good morning.
They decided on spending the day roaming around the mall, even managing to get Hoseok to agree who wanted to learn some new dance techniques. Yoongi, who was not given a choice by Seokjin (who had an affinity of asserting his dominance at the oddest of times). By the time the group had managed into a mini van provided by their company, it was nearing lunch time.
After an intense game of rock, paper, scissors; they finally headed to a local pizza place, just outside the mall. The crowd mostly consisted of old, rickety people or infants and their bored babysitters- none of which recognised the group due to lack of interest in music or media in general. The worker, too, seemed to be overworked to the point that she could barely keep her eye open.
Namjoon guided the group to the back of the small place, a couched area around a table surrounded by four chairs. The rap line managed to squeeze into the couch as the Maknae Line (including the mentally-maknae Jin) made themselves comfortable on the chairs. The wifi was bad and it would have taken a while for the pizza to be ready; considering the poor girl at the front appeared to be the only worker. So naturally, the boys began chatting. A small argument about pizza toppings soon escalated into a full blown debate against or for tattoos.
Jimin and Jungkook had wanted one, referring to it as an artist's mark and a form of self expression- while Jin stood strongly against it; claiming it could destroy your skin. (Although his claim didn't stand long as Namjoon pointed out he had no reliable evidence). Taehyung pipped in with his own thoughts, a firm believer that small tattoos are the best tattoos. Hoseok, who was scared of practically everything, began stating a list of diseases which could occur due to usage of a dirty needle. Namjoon added his own philosophical view to it- claiming it to be a metaphor.
A metaphor symbolic of human morals itself- a tattoo starts out fresh; bright and as time goes on it begins to fade, eventually disappearing from the skin even though it may take a while. Just like human morals, everyone starts out as pure, it is the world which corrupts it. Yet it is a personal effort to maintain the morals and to tarnish any marks of exploitation.
This was enough for everyone to starts looking at Yoongi, cuing him to add his opinion for the sole purpose of shutting Namjoon up. Honestly? They really did admire this man and the things he said, yet none of them really wanted to contemplate the complexity of human emotions and the ability to distinguish between right and wrong; and take appropriate actions in the grey areas; especially on of the rare days they have to themselves to relax.
After catching the pleading eyes Hoseok gave him, Yoongi began voicing his thoughts in a slight hesitant tone.
"Personally, I am not against tattoos, I just feel in this society, you will be judged if you have one. People will be quick to label you, and I suppose you can say people are anyways judgemental but their opinion really does affect your life, in certain aspects. I won't stop a stranger from getting a tattoo, but I feel it's my responsibility to warn you at least, if you aren't scared of extreme judgement and how that may cripple your life, I suppose I am no one to stop you."
He looked around to see all of them looking at him with a grave expression. He hated the awkward attention, thus adding an impromptu joke.
"I mean I'd love it if any of you got my birthday or my initials tattooed- ya know? Keep me immortalised forever on your bodies."
As if on cue Jin snarked, "Do you really think you're that important? Get over yourself, Yoongs."
And everyone burst out laughing, it was rare to insult Yoongi. He would always bite back, except when Jin toasted him. It's not like he could say anything back to his hyung.
He was taken back for a moment, trying to process the weight of the supposedly harmless words. Automatically, he forced on a smile, not wanting to seem like a crybaby. The words stung slightly, hurting much more than anyone of them intended. But yoongi didn't show it, putting on a mocking hurt expression and laughing it off.
Before anyone could comment anything, the girl came in with their orders. Serving them three large pizzas and their drinks.
Hoseok and Jimin melted at the sight of food, immediately taking a slice each. Namjoon and Jin took the responsibility to distribute equally for the rest in order to prevent fights from breaking out.
Although the three slices of delicious pizza was appetising, his hunger had died. His mind had managed to overthink the words, although he knew full well it was just a joke, his mind couldn't stop analysing it.
"Um, you guys carry on, I need to go to the washroom."
"Wanna admire your face, Yoongi? So vain!"
"Hmm, sure."
He quickly ducked into one of the single unit toilets, locking the door with slightly shaky hands as the words echoed in his head.
"Do you really think you're that important?"
Was he important? Was he needed? What did he do in the band to make it better? Produce songs? Bighit had more producers and Namjoon was better than him any day. Rap? Again Namjoon and Hoseok had their own styles, making their rap interesting to listen to. They both were way more talented than him.
His looks were average on his best days, with his messy red hair and paper white skin and the slightly pudgy stomach- he looked more like a wannabe-high schooler rather than a member of a idol group. Jimin has abs and Jin had beauty to kill for. Taehyung and Jungkook managed to look cute and hot at the same time. Namjoon's beauty was unconventional and Hoseok looked like a Greek god in real life.
His throat choked up as a part of him looked desperately for something he was good at.
Personality? Being known as the cold one wasn't exactly as good thing, considering people would rather pick their biases in those in the Maknae Line who were funny and bubbly. Or the calm and intelligent leader, or the human form of literal sunshine. Even Jin's comedic and chaotic personality made him an interesting character to stan. Unlike Yoongi, who only sleeps, works and eats.
He tried his hardest to blink away the tears, his throat burning and aching by now. Was there really nothing he was good at? What was his purpose on being in the band then? Maybe his parents were correct when they had told him in a screaming match that he would amount to nothing. He really wasn't important in the group, everyone was better off without him anyway. They were all closer with each other anyway, it's not like his presence was required. They didn't want him around, they just called him cause they pitied him. Felt bad for the boy who left everything behind to pursue something he wasn't even good at. It wouldn't be long before he was kicked out.
Maybe a year, at the longest, a year till they finally get enough of him and ask him to leave.
The few stray tears which escaped were hurried wiped away by his veiny hands. Hands flying to his mouth to muffle his cries. He didn't deserve to cry, he was pathetic. It was time he accepted that.
He was just a deadweight, a liability, a pity project, an unimportant member, simply a black stain on a beautiful painting- spieling the whole thing and making its value drop.
Somewhere in his mind, this thought had always pre-existed, yet hearing it from someone's mouth was hard. But Yoongi accepted it quickly enough. Who was he to think he was ever needed in any of their lives? Maybe they'd all be happier and better off without him.
He rubbed his face, taking a few deep breathes and prepared himself to face the others. Maybe they'd already planned on how they'd kick him out, maybe they were talking about him right now. Talking about how chubby he's gotten recently, and talk about how he was gonna scoff down the pizzas. The though alone made him slightly queasy, would anyone even miss him if he were dead?
Would anyone care about his death? Would anyone hold a funeral for him? He wasn't important, they said so themselves, then they'd probably not care about his death. Maybe they'd be happier. Nobody would care, right? Nobody would mourn for him, he would be there one day and gone the next. Maybe he'd be lucky if they notice, although not people tented to not notice garbage.
He left the stall after that, returning the group to find them chatting and laughing nonchalantly. No one spared him a glance as they all seemed busy in their own conversations. Yoongi quietly spilled the food on the his to Hoseok's, Jimin's and Seokjin's plates, with neither of them noticing.
Yoongi wiped his hands off with a napkin, and buried his hands between his thighs. Nails pinching the skin near the veins. He looked at everyone around the table, as he sat, smaller than ever in the edge of the table. Everyone looked happy regardless of his presence, maybe- they'd all be better off without him after all.
Yoongi forced on a fake smile, suppressing the urge to cry. The sadder he felt, the bigger his smile got.
Hello, i know this update is long due but ive been going through somethings. ive decided to project my thoughts into yoongi, im sorry if you expected more but i feel ive not been in a good place lately. im sorry, it's been a hard couple of months. I'm sorry for the grammar mistakes, i will edit this chapter later. thank you for reading, and I'm sorry for making yoongi suffer like this. it gets better (hopefully)