Yoongi takes a few more minutes to pluck up the courage to go back inside. Long enough for the lamplight above his head to finally flicker out and for the cigarette in his hand to burn down to the filter. Long enough for the silence in the alley to draw tears into yoongis eyes that he stubbornly has to look up at the dark sky to stop from falling. He sniffs and drops the cigarette, stomping it out and then turning back to the door. He wouldn't think about it. Not right now. Because if he did the others would know something was wrong and the one thing yoongi didn't need was them asking questions. They didn't know about it, about any of it, and yoongi was going to make sure it stayed that way. For their sake, and his own.
Yoongi steps back into the hallway and makes his way back to the room where he's immediately met with the welcoming smell of Chinese hotpot. Except it just makes him feel sick, like he's about to hurl all over the pristine wooden floors.
"You were gone for a while so the foods already been half eaten," Namjoon says apologetically as yoongi sits down. His appetite is gone now anyway so that wasn't much of a disappointment.
"Sorry hyung, we couldn't wait," jungkook pipes up, looking guilty as yoongi takes in the messy table. Half a bowl of rice, some meat and vegetables were the only things that were left. It was like an angry pack of wolves had gone at it, because well, they might as well have.
"It's fine, I'm not that hungry anyways." Yoongi mumbles, giving a half smile before piling some plain rice onto his plate.
Jimin nudges his elbow and yoongi looks over to see the younger pull out a bowl of beef and black bean soup from beside his own plate. "I saved you some,"
Yoongi smiles. "Thanks minnie," he says, taking the plate and adding it to his rice with a thankful pat on Jimins hand that makes the other flush slightly. Yoongi doesn't notice.
Yoongi gathers some plain rice on his chopsticks and sticks it in his mouth, but it might as well have been cardboard for his dry mouth sucks all the moisture from it as he chews. He has to chase it with a gulp of water just to make sure it stays down.
Jin smirks from behind a mouthful of grilled beef. "So, that man, myungdai..."
"Myungdae," yoongi corrects, not looking up from his bowl.
"Right, myungdae, is he like, an ex boyfriend or something?"
Yoongi chokes a little on the piece of rice he had forced into his mouth. It shouldn't have been so surprised at such an unexpected question because yoongi was sure that as hard as he had tried to hide the awkwardness between the two, that they had no doubt picked up on some kind of tension. It was only logical to assume that that tension was sexual. Maybe it was. Just a little. As much as yoongi didn't want to admit it.
"He's..." yoongi starts, still avoiding looking up. "More like an ex lover."
The table rattles as taehyung and jungkook slap it, hooting in suggestive laughter that makes yoongi flush from the bottom of his neck to the tips of his ears.
"Damn hyung I never knew someone like that would be your type, I mean he looked like a fucking gangster," jungkook giggles, and yoongi finally looks up to see the younger wiggling his eyebrows at him suggestively, not noticing how yoongi tenses at the wording.
Taehyung smirks. "Guess hyungs into tall, buff tattooed men then, I never would have guessed, seriously,"
"He's not really my type," yoongi mumbles. Truth be told, myungdae was his type. But so was small, soft looking guys, and women, anyone really. But maybe this would be a somewhat good cover story, to stop them prying any deeper. "But in daegu there isn't much choice in men. Half the guys there at the time weren't even out to themselves let alone willing to actually try anything with other guys. Plus, he looked a little different back then, anyway,"
"Where did you meet?" Jimin asks softly, and yoongi looks over at him to see the younger uncharacteristically avoiding his eyes and pushing a limp piece of bokchoi around his bowl.
"Can we stop talking about this now?" Yoongi mumbles, placing some beef into his mouth so he had an excuse to stop talking.
"Why?" Hoseok whines. "You never talk about your hometown or your childhood, we want to know,"
Yoongi sighs. "We met when we were fourteen, I was being chased by a shopkeeper for stealing a packet of cigarettes and I ran straight into him, we both just kind of hid behind some bins until the coast was clear. I guess we just became friends from there,"
"Really?" Hoseok asks, looking a little astonished.
"Hm." Yoongi hums, placing down his fork. "I feel kind of sick, I think I'm going to catch a cab home, if that's okay?"
"Are—are you okay?" Jimin asks worriedly.
"I think I just need some air," yoongi assures, smiling at the younger who continues looking at him like he'll break at any minute. Yoongi hated that. He just needed some time to think, to stop reminiscing, because it was making him want to hurl, and cry, and maybe do something stupid.
"Do you think you're going to be sick?" Jin asks, all curiosity gone as he looks over the rapper. He looked pale. A little too pale.
"No, I don't think so,"
"We'll all be leaving soon anyway, how about you get some air out front and we'll meet you there in ten?" Namjoon suggests and yoongi nods along, just so he can leave and get some air. Just so he can have a breather alone.
As yoongi stands the table share knowing looks between each other that go completely over the rappers head. They follow his disjointed looking figure down the hall until he disappears behind a corner.
"Well, him and that guy obviously ended on bad terms," Namjoon muses.
Hoseok straightens, chewing his nails anxiously in that habit he did when he felt guilty. "Should we not have said anything?"
"It would have been weirder if we didn't though," Jin mumbles. "You could have cut their tension with a knife, seriously, did you see the way that guy looked at yoongi?"
Jimin scowls and stabs a pice of broccoli with his fork. Bitterness swells up in his chest like a nasty cough. That man, myungdae, or whatever his name was, looked at yoongi like he wanted to devour him whole. "He looked like he wanted to fucking eat him or something,"
"Right?" Taehyung giggles. "It was kinda hot thou—hey!" Jungkook scowls at taehyung as the singer pouts and rubs his arm from where the younger had hit him. "I'm just saying," taehyung mutters, Jungkook nods his head towards Jimin who continues to stab his broccoli aggressively. "I—I mean, it wasn't that hot,"
"I hope yoongis okay," Hoseok says obliviously, biting his lip towards the entrance. "He looked so pale,"
Namjoon puts his chopsticks down. "We should probably finish up and meet him out there."
Jimin immediately starts stacking his plates as taehyung and jungkook watch him anxiously. By the time they're all finished Jimin is the first to stand, what if that guy was outside still and him and yoongi were talking? Something like jealousy settled in his stomach and turned into a firm little ball in his throat. He hated the thought. He also hated the thought of yoongi being sick, alone. But he tried not to think about it as he gathered his shit and was the first the stride down the hall, closely followed by the others.
Meanwhile, yoongi presses his forehead against the cold brick wall, feeling his breaths come out in short little stactic puffs of air expelled violently against the cold. He hadn't had much time to process it all before, he never was very good at processing shit straight away, always waited for it to creep back up on him later. This time was seemingly no different. His father. Myungdae. The syndicate was in Seoul.
The fucking syndicate.
Yuggun Yong, was in Seoul.
Yoongi places his cold palms over his eyes and presses down to try and calm his rapid fire heart as it beat against his ribcage. He was just starting to get his shit together, and it was coming crashing down again. He shouldn't really be surprised, this was kind of normal for him. Every time things were looking up they always came to a crashing halt, a dumpster fire of a half that always left yoongi worst off then the time before. Why did he ever think his father would keep his word? The man who was a notorious liar, the man that could lie and manipulate and hurt without the simple blink of an eye? Who could beat and starve and abuse his own son simply for the act of 'toughening him up', like yoongi had been some prized pig getting ready for slaughter. Why did he ever think a man like that would keep his word and fucking leave him alone?
Yoongi beats his head against the brick a few times and takes a stealing breath in. Why the fuck would his father, that man, that criminal, want him to take over Yuggun Yong? The syndicate of organised crime that he had been building up since before even yoongi was born? That was more important to him than his only — mistake, as he so frequently reminded yoongi — of a son? After yoongi himself had worked for years and years and years to build himself up to the level of success he had, to finally achieving relative happiness and finally trying to get himself over all the shit that man put him through, all the shit he was forced to do and say and how he had been told to act — why now, after all that?
Because he was dying?
Yoongi runs his hands through his hair. "Fuck." He whispers harshly into the night, simply to himself, just so he could expel some of the frustration and hopelessness setting into his chest at the revelation of the situation he was currently in.
But he'd be fucking damned if that man thought he was going to go back.
He'd never go back. Even if it fucking killed him, he'd never go back.
Never.