Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader
Genre: Angst, Occasional Fluff, and Humor
Word Count: 20k
Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING! Curse words, Mentions of Cheating, The Act of Cheating, Suggestive Themes, Mature Scenes, Physical Fights, Abortion, hinted Depression and Reliance on Alcohol, Attempted Suicide.
Special Appearances: Kim Mingyu and Woozi from SEVENTEEN, Kihyun and Minhyuk from MONSTA X.
Happier ~Olivia Rodrigo
Blue and Gray ~BTS
Happier ~Ed Sheeran
"You look happier..."
"I just want to be happier-"
"Don't be happier."
Summary: Yoongi finds himself looking for his happiness and freedom in another woman, leaving you behind with a broken heart and fading memories. But the moment he realizes that he was happier with you, might just be a moment too late. Alternatively, Yoongi cheats on you but struggles to let you go when he sees that you're happier without him.
Note: Italicised passages and segments either represent situations taking place in the past or alternatively, at the same time in a different place.
“There’s someone else…right?”
Yoongi stood by the door, a hand frozen in the air that was meant to grab the handle. You watched every move of his with careful eyes, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed ever so slightly because he tried to swallow down the tone of heaviness outlining your words. The way his pinky trembled at the very revelation he tried to hide from you. The way his shoulders slumped forward just a little with the weight of the atmosphere around him; the guilt of destroying something that was once nothing but precious to him.
You continued to watch him with sad eyes, tired and exhausted from breaking down more times than you thought you could. Tired of waiting for him to finally be honest with you. Tired of wishing he would leave everything and for once… just come back home to you.
That was all you desired, all you ever wanted from and with the man that now stood by the door that could lead him away from you.
A home. A family. A future.
It was suddenly unclear when all these lines had begun to blur, beautiful memories now remaining just what they were. Memories. Ghosts of mere moments that once meant the world to you. Running around with tender footsteps, making their way into your mind and settling there with no name to leave, tormenting you yet comforting you to no end.
How was this supposed to end?
Was it supposed to end?
Did you… want it to end?
Min Yoongi was the man that had taken his sweet time to fall in love with you. At first sight, the real person was hidden behind a professional, well-kept mask, one that took you quite a while to look past. You watched the man that had your heart learn how to love, learn how to cherish a relationship, learn how to lean on someone instead of fighting the waves himself.
You walked with him through it all, at times behind him when he needed someone to fall on, at times ahead of him when he needed someone to guide him, yet mostly by his side, when he needed someone to love.
When he needed to be loved.
You watched him grow warmer by the day, the frost of the ice that guarded his heart slowly thawing under the warmth of your touch. You watched him learn how to trust, through trial and error and endless moments of heart-wrenching pain, you witnessed his growing dependency on love itself.
You never gave him a reason to doubt the power of love, if that's what he thought it was anyway. When he needed a lap to rest his head on after a tiring day at work, you were there. When he broke down after struggling to live up to the expectations of his company, you were there.
When he thought he had found the one but she walked past him and betrayed the very trust that he had taken ages to build, you were there.
The reason he ever lifted his eyes to look at you who were once standing in the shadows, the reason he found himself leaning into your embrace every time he faced a difficulty, the reason he considered the possibility of loving you after years of loyal and devoted friendship was just that.
You were there.
When Yoongi found himself standing against the wall one evening with a clock that had stopped ticking in his hands, a tender smile had tugged at his lips as he replaced the spent batteries – because he thought back to the day he finally saw how beautiful you were. He remembered thinking how blessed he had been to have someone – who taught him the very definition of love – right under his nose, yet never realizing your value until all he had was you.
You were there.
You were there when no one else was, you were there to smile with him and cook with him and lay with him when no one else was and Yoongi had remembered thinking that that was the reason he had fallen in love with you.
Because you were there.
But...someone else came along.
It had swept you away like the torturous waves that could swallow up a tiny boat dancing to its tunes, it hit you harder than you thought it ever could, it pulled at the delicate strings of your heart and tested its patience until it had no option but to snap, leaving you with nothing but endless sorrow to drown in.
But, there was just no way you could resent him for what he had done.
Min Yoongi was just built that way. He was the one man that you looked up to, the person who inspired you to slog until you drop, just to show you the bittersweet satisfaction of your hard work that greets you at the end. He was the man who showed you parts of yourself that you didn't bother paying attention to, proceeding to write you sweet love letters describing those very parts and telling you how much it makes him love you even more.
He was the man who would wake up earlier than you to cook you a meal before he left for work, only to show you the little heart that he had formed with a green onion leak over the meal that he had set for you. He was the man who would make you sit on the floor while he sat on the bed behind you, massaging your head and shoulders until you felt like you were no longer on the ground but rather floating on cloud nine.
He was the man who stayed up all night by your side just because you couldn't sleep, washing away your worries and holding your hand until you had opened the email that would tell you if you had been accepted into the university that you had applied to. He was also the man who shed his first tear of grief when you didn't get accepted, only because the sight of you breaking down in front of him struck him with a pain that he had never felt before.
Min Yoongi had never felt for someone else until you came along. He had been pushed and cornered and hurt all his life that it became a habit to look out for himself first. But somehow, you changed that. You made him want to make someone happier, you made him want to put someone else first. You made him want to cry when someone else was crying and you made him want to smile when someone else was filled with joy.
Perhaps the sight of him changing before your eyes made you cling to what you had with him even more. You fought hard and convinced yourself that it was love that you shared with him, and that it would be love that would bring him back to you, but somehow it had turned into a mockery.
You felt ashamed to even use the word love to describe what you shared with him. Because as much as you believed you could give your life for him, you also watched him drain that very life out of you, willingly and knowingly.
That couldn't be love.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy. It does not boast. It is not proud.
Love Never Fails.
These were the words that had filled your heart with a warm feeling. You weren't much of a believer in God, but these very words that a little boy on the bus read out to you from his Bible changed the way you looked at the man you had loved.
If love never fails, then was it really love?
And even if you convinced yourself that your love for Min Yoongi would never fail, it couldn't lessen the pain that slashed a knife through your chest when you wondered if it was Min Yoongi who had failed to love you.
And do you tell her she’s the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen?
An eternal love bullshit you know you’ll never mean,
Remember when I believed you meant it when you said it first to me?
“Baby- careful!” you heard a sharp voice call out to you, a sudden gust of wind making your knee-length skirt dance away in the direction you saw Yoongi stumble in. Blinking in confusion, you turned around to catch sight of Yoongi fallen to the floor with a…frying pan in his hand?
“What are you doing?”
An incredulous laugh escaped his chest as he stood to his feet, not forgetting to send you a pointed glare before he banged the pan onto the cabinet, your shoulders jumping in surprise at the resounding clank. Yoongi took a step toward you, clicking his tongue in disappointment before reaching out and pulling out the earphones that were blasting music a little too loud for his liking.
“I told you not to wear these in the kitchen, right?”
Your eyes rolled before you could stop them, shoving his hand away and reaching for your phone to turn off the music.
“I told you to stop nagging me, right?” you mimicked his tone, raising your eyebrows at him.
He nodded, picking up at frying pan and clouting your head with it lightly. “Next time I should just let the pan fall on your head.”
You gaped at him, eyes trailing up to look at the cabinet over you that was wide open. You must’ve knocked over the pan while you were pulling out the pot for your noodles.
But then again, Yoongi was your saviour, so…
“You won’t let that happen,” you casually commented with a smug smile, turning around in time to avoid the second deadly glare that he had already begun sending your way. You sensed that he wanted to shoot you with a witty reply, but the depth of your words rendered him speechless.
“You’re right,” he agreed with you, his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion as he wondered how he found it so easy to let you win at a silly argument. “I could never let you get hurt.”
Your smirk somewhat covered the flutter of your heart that had managed to reach your cheeks through a shy smile, turning around to wave the packets of noodles in his face.
“Want to eat some ramen with me?” you winked at him.
Yoongi’s jaw locked in place, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at you.
“Aye,” you whined, shoving his shoulder softly, “you’re ruining the joke.”
“You’re hanging out with Jungkook too much,” he grumbled.
You shook your head, tearing open the packets and popping some raw noodles crumbles into your mouth.
“It wasn’t Jungkook, I saw it in a k-drama,” the smirk returned to your face as you turned to face him again, pulling on your best Seoul accent as you spoke,
“Ramyeon meokko galle?”
That seemed to do the trick, a strained laugh bursting out of him before he could actually think about what you had said.
“What the hell,” he cackled, bending forward onto the counter for support as he clutched at his stomach.
“You do realize that men usually ask that question, right?” he laughed heartily, dramatically wiping at a tear that wasn’t even there.
“It’s about time women start showing men who’s boss,” you whistled, a little too unbothered by his statements because he had already ruined the joke for you. You watched the water boil, your fingers reaching for the seasoning mix just as his hand stretched over you and into the packet to grab some raw crumbles as well.
“I can’t seem to argue with you today,” Yoongi smiled lightly, crunching on the noodles.
“You can never argue with me,” you acknowledged, to which he nodded.
“You’re right,” he said again, reaching out to kiss the side of your head. Your lips tugged up at the corners, turning to face him as you spoke with an over exaggerated pout.
“I think you’re forgetting something.”
“Oh?” Yoongi’s lips rolled into a thin line. “Am I now?”
“You are,” you nodded cutely, the pout still playing on your lips, making him giggle like a little boy. He caught your face within his palms, squishing your cheeks before leaning forward and placing a solid kiss to your lips.
“Stop being so cute, or else I’ll eat you up.”
“Please do,” a series of giggles bubbled out of you as his eyebrows shot up into his hairline. Yoongi smirked, his hand moving quickly to snatch the packet of seasoning from your grip, reaching up and holding it above his head.
You looked up, blinking once, twice, before shaking your head.
“My love,” you began, a light scoff reaching his ears. “Why do you always have to make me feel like I’m the shortest girl in the world?”
“It’s cute,” he shrugged, waving the packets as he stuck his tongue out at you, teasing you.
“Right,” you nodded, facing him and sending him a dashing smile. “If you think I’m cute because I’m short, then why are your brains stuck in your knees?”
Before he could comprehend your question, you stuck your fingers into his armpits, his entire body jerking forward as he squeaked in surprise. In one swift movement, you pulled the packets from his hand, his mouth falling open as he touched the tender spot that you had just pinched.
“You may be tall, but I know how to get my way.”
“Okay boss lady,” he nodded, giving up just as quickly as he had started. “You’re on another trip today.”
“You’re just a little weak today,” you shot back, shaking your head in amusement as you emptied the packets into the boiling water. He hummed in agreement, not bothering to fight you on that as he pulled out the noodles, slipping them into the water.
You both fell into a comfortable silence, Yoongi walking around to pull out two bowls just as you turned off the stove. He then opened the draw next to you to take out two sets of chopsticks and two soup spoons, placing them on the table and handing you the vessel holders for you to bring the pot of ramen onto the table.
“Mmm! This smells heavenly,” he commented, bending over and taking in a long sniff of the flavoured steam. You giggled, taking a seat beside Yoongi.
“Ah-” he stood up, walking to the fridge and pulling out two eggs.
“My soul food.”
“Mhm,” you nodded, your mouth watering at the sight of the noodles that you were serving into your bowl. You licked your lips as you picked up Yoongi’s bowl, giving him a larger portion before setting it down for him to crack his egg into it.
Just before you could start, Yoongi placed a tiny plate with a perfectly fried egg over it beside your bowl. You gasped happily, looking up at him as he smiled fondly at you, patting your head.
“That was quick!”
“I know you like your eggs well cooked, so I fried one for you.”
You squealed like a little kid who’d just been told they could stay up a little longer past bedtime, fond eyes wide as you clapped happily. “You know me too well!”
“That I do,” he nodded, pulling at your cheek. “Cutie.”
“You know I love you, right?”
“Yes I do.”
Yoongi nodded again, mixing his noodles with his chopsticks.
“I do, because somehow, I happen to love you more.”
A gentle smile grew on your face as you reached out to touch his cheek delicately. “I’m really happy to hear that.”
He looked at you for a moment, gently resting his chopsticks against the bowl as he rose to his feet, leaning towards you and kissing you tenderly. His thumb grazed the skin under your eye, a soft sigh leaving him as he pulled you just a little closer to him.
You reached up to place your hand over his, your other hand making its way to the back of his head, pulling him closer as well.
“Baby…” he mumbled against your lips, your eyes opening just a little as you peered up at him, “Can we…?”
“I thought I asked you this before,” you giggled, gesturing towards the bowls of ramen. Yoongi laughed, bending down and resting his forehead against yours. With soft movements, he smoothened out your hair, fond eyes trailing all over your face.
“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”
You froze, eyes trained on him, a shy blush heating up the tips of your ears. He smiled at that, thoroughly loving the effect he had on you yet somehow determined to make you believe that he truly meant what he said.
“The most gorgeous…” he continued, pulling you up by your arms and making you lean against the table.
“The sexiest,” he bit his lip as you giggled, large palms making their home over your waist, squeezing your skin gently.
“The most thoughtful,” he pointed towards his own bowl of ramen that you had served for him, not missing the larger portion in comparison to your own.
“The most loving,” he kissed your nose, fingers running over your face as he just smiled, taking in your beauty.
“The most amazing girl I’ve ever come across.” He finished proudly with a firm kiss to your lips, your eyes sparkling with so much love that you struggled to contain.
“Min Yoongi,” you caught his face within your hands just like he did, squishing his cheeks and giggling happily at the sight of his lips that were pushed into a pout.
“I love you so, so much.”
He smiled through the pressure against his mouth, his cheeks bunching up into lovely pink apples that you were tempted to bite into.
“I love you more, boss lady.”
A loud, lewd moan reached Yoongi’s ears, eyes dazed and drunk as he looked up at the woman who moved swiftly over him, short blonde hair wild and frizzy as he groaned at the sight.
“Yoongi…” he heard her whisper, voice strained with an impending high, the obscene sound of skin slapping against each other somehow disgusting him yet turning him on even more.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”
He reached up to grasp at her hair, harshly pulling at the brown roots as he yanked her down into a deep, messy kiss. He swallowed her moans and desperately grasped at her supple skin, chest burning and muscles aching yet there was no end in sight for either of them.
“Hyung?” he heard a distant whisper, a grumble tumbling out of his chest as the woman’s movements stopped instantly. Both heads turned toward the door that was locked, Yoongi’s head falling back in frustration as he wiped at the sweat over his forehead, pushing the woman off of him.
“What is it?” he snapped in anger, wincing as he pulled his pants back on with a strangled whimper.
“Your mom is here.”
“Your mom is here to meet you,” he heard Taehyung explain, voice soft yet laced with thorough disappointment.
Everyone knew what Yoongi was up to, yet none of them had the guts to confront him about it, not even once. As much as Taehyung wished that he had never seen this side of his hyung, he knew that there was no other option but to silently watch it unfold, knowing that meddling with fire was not the wisest thing to do.
“Tell her I’ll be out in ten minutes.”
Yoongi was quick to reach for his phone, somehow convinced that the music he chose to play would soon drown out all of his worries.
Just as the music began to thump loudly, he walked back to the woman who lay on his bed, bare and glowing skin greeting him, his lip catching between his teeth.
“So…where were we?”
I just wanna be happier
Please feel the warmth in my hands
They're cold, that's why I need more of you
A soft dip in the bed made your toes curl, the cold air greeting your bare feet just as the blanket was tugged away from you. You sniffed in a long breath, turning to face Yoongi who had just reached home.
“What time is it?” you croaked, rubbing gently at your right eye that was stuck together with sleepy matter.
“Just a little past 3 AM,” he mumbled, making himself comfortable over the bed and snuggling in a little more into the warmth of the blanket.
“Wasn’t it a little too cold for you?”
“You just took a shower, didn’t you?” you asked him, sleepy eyes looking over blindly at the outline of his figure in the darkness of the room.
“How did you know?”
“I can smell your shampoo, silly,” you smiled, reaching out to run a hand through his hair. He hissed at the touch of your cold skin against his, a shiver running through his body.
“Oh,” he laughed dryly, turning to lay on his back, “Yeah, I was really sweaty.”
“Were you practicing?” you asked him.
“Hmm?” he turned to look at you, startled by your question.
“The boys were over for dinner today, were you practicing alone?”
“Uh, yeah- no, I was just going through that one part I missed last week, then I worked out for a while,” he explained calmly, but you didn’t miss the way he swallowed thickly after he stopped talking.
“You’ve changed,” you suddenly whispered.
Yoongi fell silent, chest freezing at your words. Under the blanket, you reached for his hand, icy fingertips touching his equally cold skin.
“Why would you say that?” he murmured under his breath.
“You were always so lazy to wash up after you came back home, I wonder why you’ve been showering every day after work,” you smirked, a soft giggle leaving you.
You heard him sigh softly. “I figured a little struggle is worth the satisfaction of being clean.”
“Ah, I see,” you laughed, giddily pulling at his hand and intertwining your fingers with his.
“What did you cook for dinner?” Yoongi asked.
“I didn’t cook, we ordered in. Jungkook wanted to eat pizza but Namjoon wanted to eat some Korean food, so we just ordered a bunch of different things and had a few drinks,” you answered with a fond smile.
“That’s nice,” Yoongi squeezed your hand gently.
“Yeah, it was. I missed you, but I know you needed to make up for the week that you had taken off.”
“I did,” he hummed.
Somehow, Yoongi noticed the sudden warmth of your hand in his, eyes opening in the darkness as his heart began to race. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, it had become a habit for him to wait for you to fall back asleep before he slipped his hand out of yours, but today it felt different.
Your hold on him was loose, yet he wondered how it was possible for him to feel the warmth of your skin that was once just as cold as his. It made him feel rotten to know that even though he couldn’t give it back, your love was always radiating through your touch, soaking him and warming him to his bones.
He didn’t know why, but a sudden urgency took over him, his hand brushing yours off abruptly. Yoongi sat up in the bed, pushing the blanket off of him, a strained sigh leaving his throat.
“Yoongi? You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he breathed out, “Just a little hot all of a sudden.”
“Should I get you some wat-”
“No, no.” He shook his head. “Just…sleep. I’ll be right back.”
“Yoongi are you sure you’re okay?” He could hear the worry in your voice, his head falling back in exasperation. He let out a few shaky breaths, legs swinging over the side of the bed.
“Yeah, I am. Just… just stay here, I’ll be right back.”
You blinked, slowly lifting yourself up as he rushed out of the room, swallowing thickly. There was something going on, that much you were sure of, but you didn’t know how to ask him about it.
I really don’t know what went wrong
I grew up with a blue question mark in my mind
Maybe that’s why I’ve been fighting for my life
But looking behind, I’m standing here dazed
The powerful shadow swallows me
The question mark is still blue
Is it anxiety or depression?
Yoongi gulped, hands flat against the counter, and eyes opened wide even though he couldn’t see anything. He told himself that he shouldn’t be feeling this way, that he shouldn’t feel bad, that he just wants to do something for himself. For once, he just wanted to be happy.
He didn’t know what went wrong, but all he knew was that one morning he sat with a book on his lap and a pen in his hand, overcome with the guilt of the realization that the lyrics he was writing was not about you.
Yoongi knew, he knew that he loved you, but he couldn’t shake off the sudden feeling that chased after him. He would often find himself shaking his head in disagreement when an unknown desire sparked through his stomach, knowing that he didn’t have you in mind when he felt that way.
He didn’t know what went wrong when he began to stay awake longer than he liked too, thinking about things that you didn’t do, fantasizing about qualities that he suddenly noticed you didn’t have. He didn’t know how to shake off the feeling that made him feel sick to the stomach, because even though he knew he loved you, he also knew that he wanted something that you could never give him. Something that he unknowingly began to search for in other people. In other women.
But the guilt never left him.
Not even for a moment.
Not when he took the very first step toward a woman that was not you, not when he came back home to you that very night, not when he slept beside you with your hand in his. Not once did it leave it.
Especially tonight, when all he could think of was how unfair it was to him. He stood in the kitchen, the soft buzz of the refrigerator keeping him company as he breathed in deeply, willing himself to let go of every ounce of guilt that was pulling him down.
Your touch was… home. It made him shiver at the sensation, the memory, the scent. There was just something about you that wanted him to stay yet drove him away. You were love, you offered nothing but love to him, but he wondered why it suddenly became so suffocating. It was as if the very own rose that he cherished dearly began to pierce into his skin, convincing him to drop it.
And so he did. Or he decided to do so, anyway. He chose to let go. Even if he faced the terrifying conflict of having to choose you or leave you behind, he shook his head at the returning guilt that told him to choose you.
He wouldn’t, he told himself.
He wanted to be happy, he told himself.
He was not happy with you, he told himself.
And even if it made him feel a tiny bit better, he stood oblivious to your presence as you watched from a distance when he told himself that he wanted to be happy, yet he couldn’t be happy with you.
You didn’t know what went wrong, and even if you tried to fight the pain that pinched at your heart, you stood dumbfounded by the entrance of the kitchen, a pair of socks in one hand that you had carried for Yoongi.
You wondered what was suddenly so necessary when Yoongi would gently step out of bed and tip-toe his way out of the room with his phone in his hand, your eyes shutting just a little when he turned back to see if you were awake.
You wondered why he would diligently shower, head to toe, before he got back from work, the scent of his aloe and cucumber shampoo strong and heavy each time he lay his head on the pillow, strong enough to notify you of its role to cover up a scent that had once been there. A scent that he didn’t want you to know about, a secret that he never wanted you to find out.
You wondered why Yoongi suddenly lost interest in your work, a man who had once spent hours just listening to you rant about sudden bursts of happiness that made your heart flutter during your day, tiny reminders that made you feel happy for choosing your career without the pressure of another being. You wondered why Yoongi stayed out late and you sat back at home with your back pressed into the pillow behind you, heart full with stories that you wanted to share with him yet silent cries slipping past your lips because you didn’t understand the sudden painful feeling of not having someone to talk to.
You stood silently with fingers frozen around the material of the yellow sweater that you had also brought for him, wordlessly questioning yourself, feeling smaller than you ever had.
What went wrong?
When did it change so drastically that the man you loved no longer felt happy with you?
Would you ever get an answer to your questions?
Would you ever feel like you were not at fault for driving him away?
Don't say you're fine
Cause you're not
Please don't leave me alone, it hurts too much
And it hurt.
It hurt you so badly to the point where your knees gave out beneath you, weak arms trembling as they held you up against the floor. Something within you began to burn, an ache that had no relief, a fear that had no reassurance.
Suddenly, everything was too real for you.
The random notifications during the night that made Yoongi walk out of the room, the late-night sessions at the company even though the rest of the boys were free and resting at home, the sudden distance that you had no name to describe. The endless sleepless nights that you spent worrying and tossing impatiently until somehow, you slipped into a restless, unsettled sleep because Yoongi never came back home.
The way his touch suddenly lost affection, as if he did something simply because he had to, and not because he wanted to. The number of times he would kiss you tenderly but pull away abruptly after a moment as if something just snapped him back to reality. The dinners that he would cook suddenly losing the experienced touch that Yoongi would always brag about; sometimes being too salty, sometimes too bland, sometimes too spicy that none of you could eat another morsel.
It all suddenly made sense.
Because it was out of the horse’s mouth.
“I never intended to hurt you, but-”
“But there is someone else.”
Yoongi’s head dropped, gazing awkwardly at his shoes.
You wished it did not hurt you as much as it did. You wished Yoongi would just let go of the handle of the door that he was holding onto and just hold you and apologize. You wished he would tell you that he would let everything else go and come back to you. You wished he would tell you, even if it was one last time, that he loved you.
That he loved you so much that it hurt. That it hurt as much as you were hurting right now but his love would soothe your pain and fix all the pieces of your heart that were slowly beginning to crumble under the weight of his words. You wished he would do all those things because that was what you needed from him.
Not him awkwardly standing several feet away from you as if he had never stepped foot into the house that you once called home with him. Not him admitting that he had actually fallen out of love with you so that he could find it with someone else. Someone who was perhaps prettier and smarter and kinder, in every aspect that you were not, someone who was worth destroying the precious moments that you shared with him. You didn’t need this from Yoongi.
You needed Yoongi.
“Is she- is she waiting for you?”
Yoongi sighed, never really wanting you to find out the way you did. It burdened him and stressed him out even more that he wasn’t the first one to tell you about his own shameful sins, but his own band member. Yoongi looked down at the fading bruise on his knuckles, a painful reminder of the fight he had with Jimin.
Yoongi knew that Jimin was very emotional, and that was the reason he tried his hardest to hide this away from Jimin. But Yoongi had caught him just as he had muttered the painful words to you over the phone, his fists trembling in anger before one of them raised up to punch Jimin in the jaw.
But then again, Jimin was not an emotional fool for no reason. He didn’t just want to reveal Yoongi’s darkest secret to you just like that. Jimin knew that he had a right to feel the disappointment and hurt that he felt towards his hyung, and before he could even register the pain that was coursing through his face, he returned the favor and punched Yoongi back in the nose.
“You ungrateful bastard!” Jimin had screamed at the man who had fallen to the floor with a hand over his bleeding nose.
“How could you do that to her? You shameless son of a-”
Yoongi had Jimin pinned to the wall in a flash, face red and cheeks trembling in fury, fists bunching against the hoodie that Jimin was wearing.
“Stay out of this.”
“You don’t tell me what to do!” Jimin pushed against Yoongi, a loud yell following soon after.
“Don’t get between (Y/n) and me.” Yoongi pointed a shaky finger at Jimin, which drew an incredulous laugh out of the younger lad.
“You’re so fucking shameless to actually tell me that, you jerk! How could you tell me that when you’re the one who brought another woman between the two of you?!”
Yoongi shuddered at the memory.
With eyes that shook with embarrassment, Yoongi looked up at you.
He watched you carefully, a sudden pain tugging at his heart. He felt bad, that much he allowed himself to acknowledge. He felt bad to see the woman that had stayed with him through thick and thin now fallen to the floor because he had just broken her. He knew that the only right thing to do would be to comfort you, but Yoongi feared that he might give you a false hope to cling onto. He didn’t want you to latch onto him and stop him from leaving. No, that was the last thing he wanted, the last thing he needed.
So he stood painfully far from you, the couches and tables in front of him only decorating the space that so beautifully reflected and mirrored the distance he had created between the two of you.
“Yoongi…” he heard you cry, his eyebrows pinching together when he saw you raise a hand in his direction. “Please, just- just… I don’t know! Don’t go!”
His jaw clenched at your words.
He wondered if the liberty that he allowed himself included walking towards you and holding you, but somehow Yoongi thought about his limits only after he had pulled you to his chest. He didn’t know why he did that. He didn’t know if he had the right to do that. But he just knew that in this moment, he couldn’t bear to see you so broken in front of him.
“Please don’t go!” you pleaded, desperately pulling at his shirt and moving closer to him. “Don’t go, just don’t go. Please Yoongi!”
Yoongi simply ran his hand over your head, finally coming to his senses just as he stopped himself from bending down to kiss your head.
He shouldn’t, he remembered thinking.
“Hey,” he whispered, pulling you just a little closer, suddenly at a loss for words because what could he possibly tell you? That you should stop crying and let him whip up a few eggs and toast for you? That he would spend the rest of his evening by your side so that you wouldn’t feel lonely?
That it would all be okay?
How could he comfort you after all the shit he’s just put you through?
“Yoongi, don’t you love me anymore?”
And if he wanted to wince at that, he hid it. There was just no way he could speak to you; no way he could give you an answer. There was no way he could just tell you that no…he didn’t love you the way he did before.
He didn’t love you the way he loves someone else now.
Your eyes squeezed shut at his silence which was just another reminder of the impending doom that was crouching down upon you. The man that you loved, loved someone else now. The man that you waited for everyday had someone else waiting for him too. The man that you so desperately wished to keep by your side was about to walk back into the arms of the woman he had so easily fallen for.
“Please,” you tried one last time, pulling away to look up at him through eyelids heavily lidded with exhaustion. “Please, don’t go.”
“I am so sorry, bub.” Yoongi looked pained, a delicate hand resting against your cheek. He frowned when your eyes scrunched shut at his touch, your cheek leaning into his palm. “I’m so sorry.”
“Yoongi please,” you shook your head, chest aching and desperate hands reaching for his shirt.
“Please, please! Tell me we can work this out! I’ll do whatever it takes, please just- just don’t go…please don’t go.”
“(Y/n),” his head fell, eyes downcast and pained, “I can’t stay, and you know that.”
“No I don’t,” you wiped at your eyes, straightening up, “I don’t. I don’t know that, you can stay, you have to stay, please!”
“I have someone waiting for me.”
And maybe you really should have anticipated the pain. Never did you imagine the pain of heartbreak, the fear of being alone, the reminder of an empty house and an empty spot in your life to be so excruciating. Because if you did, you could’ve braced yourself.
“What about me?” you whispered, broken.
His eyes glazed over with tears that mirrored your own, a defeated sigh hitting your face.
“I have been waiting for you too, Yoongi.” You tugged at the collars of his shirt, the sudden realization that there was no winning him back draining you.
“What about me?”
“I don’t- I… (Y/n),” he shook his head, telling himself that it was alright to comfort you, holding your face within his hands.
“I don’t know what else to do, but I can’t stay, I can’t be with you after what I’ve done, I can’t do that to you.”
“I don’t care,” you blubbered out, holding his hands that were cold against your skin. He sighed at the same reminder, the warmth of your hands feeling so toxic to him, so unbearable that he retracted them.
“I don’t care Yoongi,” you begged him, this time holding his face, his eyes falling shut. “I just need you to stay with me, I don’t care about anything else.”
“I… I really, ugh,” Yoongi pulled your hands away from him, another cry leaving your chest, feeling nothing but dejected and hurt.
“I promised her that I would go back to her.”
“But what about me! You promised me too!” you yelled out in frustration, banging at his chest as he fell back onto his heels. “You told me that you would never leave me! You told me that there would never be another person! Why can’t you keep those promises?”
Yoongi covered his face, exasperated. “You don’t understand.”
“Then make me,” you pleaded.
“Make me understand.”
Just as you were about to reach out for him again, he exploded, slapping your hands away in anger.
“How do I make you understand? What do you want me to say? That you don’t make me feel as good as she does? That you don’t make me happy anymore? That I’m just so fucking tired of you that I want nothing more than to be away from you?”
Eyes wide at his words, the whimper that was at the tip of your tongue died right there. He watched you process his words, a hand reaching for you without his knowledge.
“I’m sorry,” he rushed out, holding the side of your face. “I’m sorry.”
You didn’t know it was possible, but you broke even more than you thought you could.
He shuddered at the strained whisper of his name, feeling incredibly rotten yet knowing that there was no way out of this.
And before you could think of what was happening, Yoongi stood to his feet and turned away from you, making his way to the door.
“No, wait no…Yoongi please wait!” You scrambled to your feet, knees wobbly and weak yet you managed to reach him before he could leave. “Please, don’t leave me!”
And even if that guilt returned and whispered back to him, telling him to just give in and hold you one last time, telling him that it was okay to be with you and that somehow, something would work out, he refused to pay heed to it.
Yoongi wanted to be happy, and all he knew was that his guilt would not stop him from doing something for himself. He wanted to put himself first, he wanted to be with someone who made him feel happy, and he knew that even the sight of you begging him not to leave would not stop him from pursuing his happiness.
“I can’t stay with you, I don’t…I don’t feel love for you anymore.”
And I thought my heart was attached
For all the sunlight of our past
But she's so sweet, she's so pretty
Does she mean you forgot about me?
It could be embarrassing, honestly. The number of times you tried to contact him, the various methods that you used to reach out to him. But it was as if he just disappeared, leaving barely a gust of wind and the faint scent of his presence behind, making it seem as if the time you spent with him never happened. If someone had to see the state you were in, it would be easy to mistake you for a mentally disturbed individual, but you couldn’t give up. How could you?
You had promised yourself that your love for him would never fail, but never in your wildest dreams did you think that fighting for your love would be as difficult as this. You convinced yourself that it was Yoongi, and that even though he showed you something, deep down he genuinely still loves you and is probably just going through a phase. A phase that you were willing to look past, but nothing could ever compare to the hurt that had finally taken over you, your eyes red and weak as you looked up at the woman who had walked out of the studio.
It was as if you were looking at a mirror that showed you not what you could see, but what you could never see before. She just had everything that you didn’t. And unlike you, it would be easy to mistake her for a perfect individual, a unique being that God must’ve chosen to not give any flaws to.
She was tall, taller than you, legs toned and shining glittery golden under the yellow lights of the hallway. There was a purse, probably as expensive as her own existence, white and spotless that hung over her arm. She wore a pair of tight fitted baby pink jeans, stopping just above her ankles and showed off her perfectly manicured white toe nails, a simple pair of white and brown sandals leaving soft taps against the marbled flooring. Her hair, one that made you frown for the first time because you knew that Yoongi didn’t fancy short hair on women, was blonde and curled softly, a fringe covering her forehead and complimenting her sharp brown eyes.
But then again, maybe you didn’t know Yoongi the way you thought you did.
For the first time, you could give yourself a valid reason for Yoongi’s betrayal. This woman was the most gorgeous woman you had ever seen. And maybe it shouldn’t have made you feel at ease, but you finally understood why Yoongi found a stronger reason to not stay with you.
When her eyes fell on you, you knew she didn’t know you, and even if it was for the better, the smile that she flashed you made you feel even smaller than you thought you had felt before. It was warm, pretty and so perfectly sculpted that it made you wonder if it was fair for such a lovely looking being to exist.
And even if you didn’t want to accept it, his words played itself in your mind, tormenting you. Comforting you. Killing you.
“It is what it is.”
“We’re here, bubby,” a delicate whisper floated towards you.
Yoongi smiled, touching the side of your face that was resting awkwardly against the window of the car door, gently tucking away the hair that had fallen over your eyes. “Bub,” he ran his hand over your cheek. “We’re here.”
You had just looked so cute, he remembered thinking, a squeak that surprised him leaving his mouth, eyes widening in worry that he might’ve woken you up with that, even though he was trying to do just that. He watched with fond eyes as you smiled lazily, arms stretching out ahead of you as you, too, squeaked.
“I suppose you didn’t do that on purpose,” he narrowed his eyes at you.
“What? The super cute noise that made me want to squeeze your cheeks until you cried? No,” you mumbled through a smile, cheeky eyes stealing a glance at him.
“Huh,” he scoffed, head tilting to the right suspiciously. “Aren’t you too smart for your age?”
“No sir,” you shook your head, “I learn my tricks from you.”
Yoongi shook his head at you, an enamored rush of giggles filling the car. “You better get your cute ass out of my car right this moment, or the police might find a dead body here tomorrow.”
“Ouch,” you clicked your tongue, “Wouldn’t that be such a sad sight.”
“It would, so out you go, boss lady.”
“Oh?” Yoongi cocked an eyebrow at you. “Getting feisty, I see.”
Yoongi rolled his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “Okay, I see what you’re doing.”
“Maybe I do want to see the police here tomorrow.” You carefully ran your finger over your collarbone.
“You wouldn’t be alive to witness it,” Yoongi gave you a look.
“No one said the dead body would be me.”
His eyes widened.
“Wow. Now my girlfriend wants to murder me. Lovely.”
You sent him a sweet smile.
“I learn my tricks from you.”
There was nothing to see, really. The air was cold and the sky was dark, almost black. But Yoongi insisted that he needed to get you out here at least once before you die. Talk about being dramatic.
You were basically stinking, but it wasn’t in a bad – I just had a bucket of sweat poured on me after an embarrassing seven-minute workout – kind of a stink. You, and Yoongi, could literally make the wild animals that had absolutely no business with you run a mile just by the scent of the medicinal whiff that was radiating off of your bodies, even through your clothes, if you will.
Yoongi had been insistent to apply a mosquito repellent on every inch of your body that his hands could reach, a constant ‘I can’t let mere bugs destroy the night I have planned,’ nag making its home in your mind just by the number of times he had repeated it. And okay, maybe it didn’t hurt as much to admit that you didn’t let him have it easy either, running around the house for a good ten minutes, an electric mosquito bat in your hand as you reminded him that the sickly smelling lotion was not necessary.
And maybe he was not impressed by the fact that you were illustrating the technique of killing by making him the mosquito.
He did flinch – even if he never admitted it – each time the bat sparked the ends of his hair, not just on his head but also the tiny ones over his arms and calves, but he was adamant. As he said, ‘I can’t let mere bugs destroy the night I have planned.’
God save you from those plans because all you could focus on was the one place that was swollen pink and hot, the one place Yoongi did forget to apply the repellent on.
If it wasn’t disgusting enough, you had smeared the blood that wet your finger the moment you touched your ear onto his shirt, a groan greeting you in return.
“I swear to the heavens right now, if you do that again, I will push you off of this cliff.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
He sat you down on the thin blanket that soaked up the dew of the grass under it not even a minute after he placed it over the ground, conveniently ignoring your ‘I told you so,’ lectures that you whispered under your breath, shoes placed neatly next to the big bucket, mind you…bucket, that he brought along with him.
Yoongi would never admit that the pink and green flowers on the plastic bucket, one that he picked up from his mother’s house just a few days ago, embarrassed him. His whole idea of ‘If I don’t see it, it doesn’t exist,’ ideology seemed to work until he heard the tentative, yet well-planned mumble reaching his ears.
“Those flowers look really pretty, don’t they?”
And it was both a blessing and a curse that it was too dark. A blessing because it hid the way his fist clenched and jaw locked in embarrassment. A curse because it was just too dark to see any flowers around the two of you except for the ones on the bucket that shone under the flickering light of the candle that he placed next to it.
“Woman,” he tried to threaten you, “Don’t test me.”
“What?” you asked him innocently, “I’m just appreciating how beautiful they look. Don’t they?”
Yoongi scoffed again, a forced, tight smile stretching across his face. “Ha-ha, yes…they do.”
You sat back with hands on the ground, a proud smirk playing on your lips, your silence screaming of its victory in his face.
Yoongi wished you would sit tight and not poke at his patience for just a while, knowing that the sight of his surprise would render you speechless, so he bit his tongue and convinced himself to just gulp down every taunt and tease that you never failed to shoot his way.
“You do know that your ass is going to have two round, wet spots after you get up, right?”
He blinked, again.
Did he really have to go through this for the next twenty-five minutes? Maybe.
But maybe it was worth it. Even if his fingers were numb from holding himself up on his arms for the past painfully-long-yet-incredibly-short few minutes, even if he couldn’t do anything about the mosquito bite on his little toe, even if he felt like his ears were about to fall off, he somehow knew that he just could, he really could, do this again.
Because nothing compared to the dazed look on your face as you stood up – awe-struck, fond and excited hands pointing to the faint pink brushes against the distant sky. Nothing could compare to it, even if the sunrise that he wanted you to see (at least once before you die) shone delicately yet assertively, painting bold strokes of golden and red, blending in with the dark cover that was bidding its farewell, it couldn’t compare to the softest gasp of admiration that he heard from you.
Even if all you could do was look up at the prettiest sky you had ever seen and still say that the sun looked like the fried egg that he had made for you for a few days ago, he could do this again. Yep, even if he wanted to smack you for saying that, he could do this again.
He had asked himself, even if he didn’t possibly need an answer, he still wondered.
Because he loved you. And because he wanted to just…make you happy.
He could do this again.
As long as mere bugs don’t ruin it for him.
You don’t know why you were reminded of that memory. Maybe it was because you watched Yoongi walk out of the studio with a sanitizer in his hand, calling out to the woman who had stolen him away from you, just to give her some too.
Maybe it was because of the song that he wrote after that morning with you, exclusively for you, Fried Eggs and Flowers, one that always brought a tender smile to your face, even now. Maybe it was because of the way Yoongi never got tired of reminding you of what a pain in his butt you had been that evening even though he swore he had good intentions.
Maybe because you wanted to do that again, with him.
And as much as it hurt to watch Yoongi walk past you without even noticing that you were not even a few feet away from him, you let him go.
Maybe there just was…another girl.
Maybe if you accepted it, it would hurt less.
Lesser than the pain of imagining Yoongi doing all the things that he did with you, with someone new.
And only God knew if He listened to the silent plea that reached out to the heavens that very moment, a fervent wish that Yoongi never forgets you when he does.
Say you love her, baby, just not like you loved me
And think of me fondly when your hands are on her
There was a different aura to the woman who stood in front of Yoongi. Bold yet broken, head held high yet eyes lowered in disappointment. He didn’t know how it was possible for his mother to portray two contrasting emotions at the same time, yet somehow, she just did.
It reminded him of the conflict he had been facing for the past four weeks. A relatively short period of time compared to the two years he had spent with you as your lover. Well, almost two years.
And he faced yet another conflict, in that very moment. Shoulders sagging with guilt yet hopeful eyes glancing up at his mother, hands feeling disgusted yet somehow wanting to reach out and touch her fingers to pull it up to his head. Yoongi felt ashamed to stand in front of the woman who had once raised him to be a strong young man, yet all he wanted to do was run into her arms and cry until he couldn’t anymore.
And she did give him a reason to cry.
Because never in a million years did he think that his own mother would raise her hand on him.
It was a feeling like no other, fluttering eyelids not knowing whether to screw shut or remain wide open, a trembling hand reaching up to touch the angry skin of his cheek. The aftershock of the slap made him stagger back a single step, soft and rapid breaths hitting his face and he suddenly sensed that it wasn’t over.
And it really wasn’t.
Because then came the purple handbag flying at his arm, then at his head before it dropped to the floor. Yoongi had his mouth sealed shut, feeling unworthy of making a single sound of complaint even if he just wanted to tell his mother that it hurt. And she was a mother, she was his mother. Because she knew.
That’s right, she attempted to punch his shoulder, I want it to hurt.
She pulled at his hair, weak hands dragging him forward and forcefully pushing him back, it should hurt.
Another slap to the face that actually really stung, just like you hurt your mother.
She finally grabbed his collar, pulling him down to look at him. Heavy, exhausted gasps left the older woman’s chest, trembling fingers tightening around the material of his shirt.
Just like you hurt her.
Yoongi didn’t feel it. He chose not to feel it. He chose to ignore the pain he had given you, but somehow, the eyes that were brimming with disappointed tears, staring at him sadly, made him…think. Yoongi knew that he wasn’t a man to go back on his word, but he had never been looked down upon the way he was right then. It made him think that he might’ve underestimated the damage he had done.
“You don’t deserve to call me that.”
His eyes screwed shut, palms flat against his thighs as he kneeled before his mother.
“Yoongi-ah,” the break in her voice pained him. “I am so disappointed in you.”
The sharp intake of his breath let her know that she hit the right nerve.
His mother was just the kindest woman he had ever met, with the warmest heart and softest skin, hands that had always been a little weak and shaky but never failed to take care of him, feeding him, brushing his hair, ironing his uniform for school. She had always had a soft spot for Yoongi, in contrast to her husband, who was certain that good values and morals were more important than emotions and happiness. She would silently cheer for him when no one else did, she would slip in a few thousand won notes into his backpack each time he left home, she would run her fingers delicately over the ink in Yoongi’s secret notebook that he had hidden away from everyone because she knew him better than he knew himself.
And she knew that this time, Yoongi had to fall flat on his nose before he learned his lesson.
So she said nothing, burdened and regretful sobs leaving her mouth, but still placing her hand over his ear delicately when he lay his head on her lap.
He wouldn’t listen, she told herself.
He needs to find his own way, she told herself.
Hopeful eyes rising up to the ceiling, she cried again.
He needs to find his way back to you.
There was no way he could get enough of that sound, his fingers momentarily stopping, frozen in awe. Had it always been this exciting to act like giddy teenagers trying to hide their little high-school romance?
He didn’t know, because currently, he was a man on a mission.
His fingertips danced their way across the visibly glowing skin of the woman under him, dainty touches teasing her, making her gasp, making her want more. His eyes traveled across the ink over her hipbone, a few characters in a language he couldn’t understand, deprived lips sinking into her skin, wanting more himself.
He groaned when he heard her moan lightly, one hand supporting her body as he pushed her further into the tight space of the bathroom stall, movements slowed yet driven by the urgency of getting out of there before someone notices that he had gone missing.
Somehow he found himself moving up, trailing wet kisses along the prominent muscular ridges of her stomach, twisting his way around to kiss the dip of her waist.
“Please,” he heard her beg, his mind going blank at her request.
Her touch was just so…different. If he was in his right mind, which he wasn’t, he would’ve taken a moment to think of how different it was from yours. But the fire that ignited under his skin, the blown-out pupils that locked eyes with the woman in his arms, made him temporarily lose his cognitive abilities.
She was so gorgeous.
Hot and bothered, blond hair somehow looking so incredibly sexy even though it had begun to fade, he gazed down at her with such sinful desires that it wouldn’t be possible to word it without a blush rising to his cheeks. So he continued following his instincts, wandering hands moving swiftly, lips to her skin and ears alert and eagerly absorptive, taking in every little sound that he pulled from her.
And somehow, it did make him happy. He remembered thinking that.
She made him happy.
And maybe it was okay to allow himself to feel this happiness. Even if it came at the cost of your own.
Oh, I hope you're happy, but not like how you were with me
I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go
So find someone great but don't find no one better
I hope you're happy, but don't be happier
Yoongi let out a heavy breath, fingers trembling as he held onto the letter that he had received.
A letter from you.
It had been two months since he last met you. Two months since he had grown used to ignoring your messages and calls. Two months since your breakup had made it to the news and caused him nothing but absolute chaos and trauma.
He had struggled through it alone. Not that he was completely alone, save for his girlfriend who was so sweet and supportive, and the staff members and managers who had given more than their all to just take down the hurtful comments and articles that were flooding almost every corner of the internet possible.
Alone in the sense, he didn’t have the support of his band members. After facing a lot of embarrassment, the boys swore to never cover for Yoongi and his shameful activities again, and even though it hurt to admit, the fight between Yoongi and Jimin had created such an unhealthy impact on the band that it almost threatened to break at one point.
Yoongi had made it a point to put your safety as a top priority, much to his girlfriend’s dislike, but he just knew how bad the internet could be. So he had made specific instructions, creating a separate security team for you, but Yoongi failed to hide his shock when he had been notified that you were no longer in the country.
So to have a letter coming from you was surprising, to say the least. Yoongi noted that the date on the letter and the date he last received any sort of communication from you matched, and even though he had no reason to, Yoongi found himself sweating at the feel of the letter in his hold.
Maybe this was really the end. The end that he had written off two months ago but another version of it coming from you this time. And because that was what he so desperately chased after, Yoongi unfolded the papers.
This is one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do. I never thought even once that there would be a time I would speak with you for the last time, and somehow… I was not satisfied with our last goodbye. I totally understand if you never read this, or if you’re too busy and this letter gets thrown somewhere you could never find it, and if that does happen, then I guess our last goodbye was really the last.
But if it isn’t, and you do get to read this, I hope someday you would acknowledge what I am intending to tell you.
Min Yoongi, you are such a wonderful man. I have never once regretted anything I have done with you, for you, because of you, because I have never experienced love the way I did with you. I love you… so much, it hurts. It’s funny that I mention that because for the past few days, I have been feeling so sick, and all I crave for is your love. I really, really miss you. I miss everything about you. And at times I lie on my bed and think about every little thing that used to make me feel happy during our relationship.
There were times you would secretly scribble little dicks and boobs over my face with a marker when I was asleep, and as much as I despised you for that, I suddenly think of the things I would do to just listen to that laugh of yours again whenever I woke up and would yell at you. It makes me wonder, you looked really happy back then. Was it ever real? Did I ever make you happy? Maybe I am just far too much of a gone case, and I delude myself by thinking that maybe I did. Maybe I did make you happy.
Anyway, I also miss every part of you. I think one of the things I miss most is your scent. I remember it so vividly, it’s like a part of me, a memory that will never leave, but then again, it feels so foreign. I don’t think I should be telling you this, but maybe the gut confidence that this letter might never reach you is helping me be even more honest. I bought the perfume that you used. The exact same one, from the exact same store. But it doesn’t smell the same as you. It’s far too strong for my liking and it makes me think that it’s not your perfume, but rather your own scent that mixed with it is what I miss.
There’s just another thing that keeps me up at night. Your hands – they were always cold. I really wonder why, because you’re the first man I’ve ever come across that had cold hands. Not that I have touched many men’s hands (because you would always glower at them and scare them away), but I guess it’s just a common misconception that men always have warm hands. Your hands were like ice, if you let me describe it that way. And it used to make me happy to think that they complimented the warmth of my own. Just like yours, my hands, unlike most girls, were so hot and clammy that it used to disgust me, until I met you. It made me think that we really were perfectly designed for each other, to complement each other.
Okay maybe I am delusional. Why am I telling you about things that made me happy? Please believe me, I don’t intend to make you think that you could do better. That is not my intention.
I saw her. I don’t know her name or anything about her but I saw her once, and it really settled the restless feeling in the pit of my stomach. She is just…so beautiful. She looks so kind and pretty and lovely and I just knew that she…well, how do I put it? She is good for you. I think that is what you deserve. If she makes you happy, then I guess all the pain I went through was worth it.
Yoongi paused, placing the paper down and digging the edge of his wrist into his eyes. This was all too much for him to digest, and he suddenly sat back down on his chair, wondering how he managed to read one full page while standing up.
Taking a quick sip from his bottle, Yoongi picked up the letter again.
I don’t want you to feel bad, okay? I mean, I understand that you’ve never gone through that much of problems the way you did with me, but it’s okay…I guess. I don’t mind you being happy, because that’s exactly what I want. I love you too much to curse you or wish bad things for you the way some people do, but I just want you to know that it’s okay to be happy. Don’t beat yourself up over this. I could see the struggle you went through, the battles you had been fighting, and if this is what makes you happy, if she’s what makes you happy, then so be it.
Now that I’ve actually gotten into the flow of writing, it makes me think…why am I even writing a letter to you? It’s not like you might magically have concern for me and read something that comes from me because I guess you’ve put me on your blacklist or something haha. It’s embarrassing, I guess I’ve called you over 600 times over the past couple of months, and that’s nothing in comparison to the texts I’ve sent you. I had even sent you a package, it was that silly couple photo booth things that we had done last year, and I wanted you to have a copy of that. It’s stupid, I know. So feel free to throw it out. You don’t need to keep that. I don’t think your girlfriend would like that.
Oh geez, I just realized that I am coming off as some crazy stalker ex-girlfriend who never lets go. But no. I’ve never stalked you, and I never will. I can assure you of that. I guess, I just wanted to properly speak to you once before we finally cut off all ties. It hurts to think that it was easy for you to just let me go without properly giving us one last chance, but fine. It’s okay.
Um, I guess I’m running out of words. If you did receive that package, you might wanna throw out the pictures, but some part of me wishes that you would hide it away, maybe push it into some random book that you never read or place one of them behind your phone cover or some shit. It’s okay though, if you don’t want to, I mean. But it would really make me feel good if you do. Maybe it’s me being selfish this time, but some part of me doesn’t want you to be as happy as you were with me.
Your words still play in my head sometimes, you had mentioned that she makes you feel good. I guess you’re talking about sex or what not. Fuck I did not just write that. Okay no worries, it’s not like it can change anything but yeah. I guess she does make you happy. But is it too much to ask of you? That I don’t want you to be happier than you were with me?
Okay I’m sure that if you haven’t already, you’ve probably torn this paper and thrown it away lol. And I guess I deserve that. I’m being all soppy and shit and that really wasn’t my intention (You can see me being all formal in the beginning but I don’t know where I went wrong).
Okay Yoongi, if you’ve reached this part of the page, well…thank you for reading I guess? I couldn’t be more embarrassed but I feel somewhat better because I’ve finally worded every emotion that has been haunting me for the past few months. I really, really hope that you don’t blame yourself for this, for everything. I get it, it’s normal and natural for people to fall out of love and get attracted to something new. But maybe I didn’t expect that to happen to us.
Well, shit happens. We happened too, once upon a time. I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused and I guess it’s pointless to say this but I love you. I always have and I always will. And I REALLY want you to be happy. *whispers* just don’t be happier.
And this is where we part ways.
Thank you, Min Yoongi. For making me happier than I’ve ever thought I could be."
He let his eyes scan the messy curls that your pen scribbled over the paper, getting even worse towards the end, probably because you were losing patience as time passed. Ironically, that’s what had happened to him as well.
Yoongi thought back to how much you hated to write. He knew just how much you despised the idea of sitting in one place with a pen to a book for more than three minutes, and somehow Yoongi felt his eyes glossing over at the efforts you had taken to write this for him. It wasn’t easy for Yoongi to just cut you off completely, and maybe he did acknowledge the affection he somehow still had for you, not finding it in his heart to simply block and delete your number. Neither could he unfollow you from any social media accounts that he had. He just couldn’t do it. Because he knew that would break you too much.
To lessen the burden of the guilt that had been eating at him, Yoongi figured that hurting you lesser than he already has would be for the best. For both of you. He knew he wanted to be happy, but he didn’t want you to be sad at the same time. Perhaps it was too much to ask for, after doing nothing less than snatching your heart out only to smash it into a million pieces and drop it back into your hands, Yoongi just didn’t want to hurt you any more than he did.
So he kept your number on his phone. Even if he changed your contact from ‘My bubby’ to ‘(Y/n)’, he didn’t delete your number. He never once unfollowed any of your accounts, even if he often found himself sitting in a corner with his thumb hovering around the ‘Unfollow’ button, he didn’t do it.
Because maybe, he remembered thinking, maybe he didn’t want you to be sad.
Yoongi pushed at the knob of the shower, the sudden silence in the bathroom making him shiver, wet feet padding across the tiled floor and reaching for his towel. He sniffed, wiping his hair vigorously before proceeding to dry off the rest of his body, wrapping the damp towel across his waist and using his shriveled up hands to wipe at the fog on the mirror.
His movements paused when he caught sight of the pink bruise across his collarbone, eyelids – heavy with exhaustion and lack of sleep – blinking up at his reflection. He had been careful for the longest time, and he just couldn’t find it in his heart to blame the woman for getting carried away and leaving a mark on his skin after the past few hours that he had spent with her. But he couldn’t go home this way. Not when he had just got done washing off the remainder of her perfume from his skin.
Not when he had you waiting at home, for him.
“Yes?” Namjoon answered the phone with a sigh.
“Can you give me your concealer?”
Yoongi snorted. “Yes.”
“I’m not at the building right now.”
“Where are you?”
“Well…” Namjoon coughed awkwardly, “I’m at (Y/n)’s place with the boys. We’re eat-”
“-is that Yoongi?” He heard a distant voice call out.
Yoongi panicked, disconnecting the call before Namjoon could put you on the line. He had not answered any of your calls that day save for a text that he sent you telling you he’d be back late. There was no way he could talk to you right now, let alone explain the situation that he was in.
Slipping out of the bathroom, Yoongi walked back to his bed with white streaks of vapor steaming off of his body, dropping his phone over the mattress and opening the little suitcase that was placed near the couch, an emergency package you had set for him.
Two new pants, two sweaters if it got too cold, two t-shirts if it was too hot, three pairs of white socks, a new pack of black underwear that was still in the plastic packaging, a few toiletries, and deodorants, a cough mixture, a bottle of eye-cooling drops and multivitamins.
Yoongi sighed, sitting on his haunches with a sad expression as he gazed down at the love that was radiating off of your little preparations for him.
There was simply no one who could take care of him the way you did.
Yoongi blinked, folding the letters slowly and slipping them under his keyboard. With a soft sigh, he turned his chair to see his girlfriend shut the door to his studio, a large orange plastic bag in her hand. She smiled brightly at him, blonde hair bouncing against her shoulder blades when she skipped her way towards him.
She took a seat on his left thigh, an arm circling around his shoulder.
“Hi, sweet girl.”
“I got us some doughnuts,” she gestured toward the bag excitedly before placing it down on the floor.
“Mmm,” Yoongi hummed, eyes fluttering shut when she leaned forward to kiss him. Ever so softly, she caught his face, her index finger under his chin to guide him up to her while her other hand slipped into his hair.
“I’ve missed you,” he mumbled against her lips, eyes opening slightly to gaze at her.
“Me too,” she grinned down at him, pulling him into her arms as he snuggled his face into the crook of her neck, breathing in deeply. His fingers made their way to the strings behind her that were tied into a loose knot, tugging at them until it released.
“No more work?” she inquired in a small voice, eyes briefly scanning his table to see that his computers were turned off.
“I’m done for the day,” he murmured, leaving a trail of feather-like kisses along the dip of her collarbone. Pulling her a little closer, Yoongi’s hand traveled around her to rest against the small of her back. The soft sigh that left her when his fingers slipped past the material of her crop-top brought a smile to his face.
He heard her gulp, his eyes opening when she placed both of her palms flat onto his shoulder to push him away.
“I’m kinda hungry.”
Her eyes twinkled under the false lighting on the ceiling above them, raising a hand to touch the side of his face.
“You’re so cute,” she smiled, running her thumb along the expanse of his cheek.
“I’d rather not have you call me that.”
“No, but you are,” she gently insisted, grazing the skin under his eye. “I’m so lucky to have found you.”
Yoongi’s eyes opened, blinking up at her in silence. He watched her as she continued to run her eyes over every little feature of his face. There was a sudden change in the air, he noted, something that he couldn’t quite put a finger on.
He nodded in response.
“There’s…uh,” her gaze broke away briefly. He continued to watch her in silence.
“There’s something I have to tell you.”
She looked nervous, a look he had never seen on her before. Brows pinched together in worry, Yoongi sat up a little straighter, grabbing her hand in his.
Her eyes flitted across the studio to the attached bathroom, her chest rising and falling evidently as if every breath she took in was forced.
“Babe,” Yoongi touched her cheek, her eyes widening ever so slightly at his gesture. “You can tell me anything.”
Blinking back at the man who was gazing at her with so much love and concern, her expression changed almost instantly. Her frown disappeared, hands responding to his touch as she leaned forward to capture his lips in a gentle kiss.
Yoongi played along with it, movements slow with confusion when he kissed her back. She pulled away after a moment, gaze falling to her lap after she pushed him back against the chair.
“I love you.”
If there was something that could’ve warned Yoongi about the shock that he would experience, maybe Yoongi could’ve handled it better. He sat frozen, hands staying where they were and eyes glassing over with tears. Although on the outside it simply looked as if Yoongi was shell-shocked, there was a storm going off on the inside, a sudden dizziness making its presence known to Yoongi just as his head fell back against the chair. A feeling that he couldn’t quite describe began to squeeze through his abdomen, a feeling that he had never felt before.
Yet, all that he was certain of was that the tears that were collecting in his eyes were not tears of happiness.
“I love you, Yoongi.”
I love you so much.
His eyes scrunched shut at the voice in his head. Never before had he experienced auditory hallucinations before, not even when he was drunk out of his mind or had just woken up from a horrendous nightmare. But he heard it once, jaw clenching at the sound that filled his mind like a drug that had an intention to confuse him, an illusion with a fatal role that chased him.
When he attempted to focus on the voice of the woman who had just confessed to him, a hand flew to his ear when he heard that sound again. It was almost as if his mind wanted to hear it again, repeating it out of the faint memory that had clashed with his present.
I love you so much.
“Ah,” Yoongi shook his head, pushing her until she got the message and got off on her own, her eyes brimming with worry when he stood up and covered his face.
“Stop—stop, just… stop talking.”
Her lips rolled into a straight line, nodding wordlessly even though his eyes were closed.
Yoongi gasped, breathing out heavily and bending forward to rest his palms against his knees. He felt her place her hand delicately over his shoulder, head shaking violently before he straightened up, shrugging her off.
“Can you just go?”
“Yoongi, what happened?” she asked worriedly, reaching for his hand but he dodged it, shaking his head again at her.
“Just go, please.”
“What’s going on? Are you okay? Should I get you some water-?”
“I think you need to just sit down. Come here-”
“I told you to stop fucking talking!”
She flinched at his voice that suddenly boomed through the tiny space of his studio. Faltering immediately, she took a step back, her eyes downcast.
“My god!” He yelled out, both hands raising up to cover his ears.
“All you do is talk, talk, and talk and all I can hear is her voice! Everything you’ve said, she’s said to me, everything you’ve done, she’s done with me. Why can’t you just shut up when I ask you to?”
The sudden silence in the room was loud, too loud for Yoongi’s liking, a grunt leaving him as he pushed his fingers into his temples. Maybe he pushed it too far. This was something that should’ve remained in his mind, forbidden words that were not meant to be voiced out. An exasperated sigh forced its way out of his chest, a sour expression growing as he pulled at his eyebrows helplessly in frustration.
Just as he was about to apologize for taking things too far, he saw her smile.
“Last week I found out I got pregnant.”
“What?” The whisper of shock tumbled past his lips without him noticing.
She laughed, nodding in confirmation.
“I’ve been sick, and I thought it was because of that stupid sushi place that you took me to. I told you I hate sushi so much.”
She suddenly took a bold step towards him. “But you’ve been so out of it lately, Yoongi,” she frowned.
“You never cared about me. You still don’t. You’ve never bothered to ask me what I like, what I don’t. Why do I need to keep telling you such things?”
Yoongi gulped, his heart racing anxiously.
“I hate sushi so much but I ate it because it made you happy. I love doughnuts so much and I’ve been bringing them over every time I come to the studio, but you never touch them. Why?”
She stood right in front of him, eyes reaching the level of his own. With a careful finger, she pushed it into his shoulder. Exactly in the place where he had had his surgery a few years ago.
“Why don’t you try them? Why can’t you do something to make me happy? Are you that selfish?”
She jabbed her finger into his flesh once more. “Huh? Are you?”
The sight of his fists clenched by his sides caught her attention, a soft laugh escaping her chest.
“What more could I have expected? You left the woman who loved you more than life itself just because you needed something new? Someone new? Why would the same man who did that, do something to make me happy?”
“If this is about the doughnut-”
“This is not about the fucking doughnuts, you dumbass!”
Huffing at the strength she didn’t realize she needed to explode the way she did, she breathed out heavily, opting to simply glare at him to fill the gap.
Before he could reach her, she slapped his hands away, pointing a finger straight at his face.
“Don’t you dare touch me right now.”
Yoongi licked at his lips, desperate to hear more about the tragedy that had already begun to torment him.
“You’re pregnant? Like—how? Why… why didn’t you tell me before?”
She couldn’t help but scoff in disbelief. “You wanna know why?”
Yoongi frowned deeply, his head beginning to ache with a dull pain.
“You really wanna know why?”
“Will you just tell me already?”
She stared at him for a moment, tears glistening in her eyes as she gazed at Yoongi.
“Because you don’t make me happy.”
The road I always walk and the light I always receive
But today seems like an unfamiliar scene
Have I become used to it or have I collapsed?
“You heard me, Yoongi.”
She sat back down on the couch with a huff, placing a shaky palm over her eyes.
“You must think I’m dumb,” she commented in a low whisper.
Yoongi stayed where he was, frozen to his bones and trembling eyes running all over the place.
“You’ve never forgotten about her, Yoongi. Not once. And it shows. You fucking stink of regret each time you come to me, but because you were running away from it, I never spoke to you about it.”
She somehow managed to pull the strap-on sandals that she had taken off by the entrance of the studio, slipping her feet delicately into them.
“It’s a different thing that I really liked you, but what you did was so fucking cheap. You deserve to rot in hell for that, man.”
Yoongi’s eyes fell shut at her words, a slow poison that had already begun to get to him, a fire that was burning every inch of his skin. But all he could do was stand and listen to her and she adamantly stood her ground with the intention of placing a mirror in front of the man that had turned a blind eye to all of his sins.
“You made me eat fried eggs. Up until some point, I thought it was you that liked them. But fuck,” she shook her head, pulling at the straps of her shoes aggressively. “You looked like a ghost was hovering over you each time you had to eat it. It became so evident that it wasn’t you who liked fried eggs, but (Y/n).”
She switched onto her other foot.
“You hid me away from everyone. When your bandmates were here, you asked me to leave like I was an embarrassment to you. I totally get that we met under such circumstances, but Yoongi,” she sighed, looking up at him. “You could’ve at least treated me like a decent human being when we were not behind closed doors. How do you think that made me feel? You made me feel like my one and only role in your life was to make sure you get a good fuck. And holy shit, did that hurt.”
“It wasn’t only-”
“Don’t even think about defending yourself right now, Yoongi. You know that you don’t have any toilet paper left to wipe your ass at this moment.”
And just like that, Yoongi fell silent again.
“I’m sorry we had to have this conversation, Yoongi. But it’s best if we end things here instead of dragging this any further. I don’t think I’m as strong as (Y/n) to handle you leaving me for someone else. If you did it once, you can do it again. So,” she finally stood up, reaching to the side to pick up the packet of doughnuts that she now intended on finishing all by herself.
“I should get going.”
Yoongi looked back at her with desperation in his eyes. “What about the baby?”
She stared at him for a few seconds, shaking her head at him before she dropped her gaze to her stomach.
“I dropped it.”
Yoongi felt his heart clench painfully, another blow to his chest that evening that left him silently gasping for air that he found so difficult to find.
With gentle fingers that touched her stomach, a watery smile began to form on her face.
“I couldn’t let my child have a father like you.”
And yet again, it was as if Yoongi was watching himself walk out of this door, his eyes scrunching shut painfully and his clenched jaw and fists that curled around the crumpled material of his shirt did nothing but scream to him, telling him not to open his mouth. That this would be something he wouldn’t be able to recover from. A wound that would never heal. An ache that could never leave.
But he found that he was more desperate at that moment than he had ever been.
The woman stopped by the door, fingers still hanging loosely around the handle, an inaudible sigh slipping past her lips.
“I can’t stay with someone who doesn’t make me happy.”
“Yoongi hyung! Hyung!”
The sound of loud slaps reached his ears first, almost before a dramatic time gap after which he realized that those slaps were actually directed to his face, wincing weakly at the stinging sensation over the pink skin of his cheeks.
“Ugh,” Yoongi groaned, raising a hand to protect his sore cheeks from any more slaps.
“Are you okay? You fell down the stairs!”
Yoongi frowned, nodding nevertheless and squinting to try and recognize the unfamiliar voice that was speaking to him.
“I’ll get him some water,” he heard another voice briefly mumble, his eyes finally opening to see a tall man hover over him. With wide eyes, he wordlessly gestured for the stranger’s upside-down face to move out of his way.
“Oh- let me help you up!” He suddenly yelled out loudly, Yoongi’s ears already beginning to hurt by the sound of the overly excited man. Yoongi had just tumbled down a flight of stairs, for crying out loud.
With a grunt, Yoongi managed to sit back up, shutting his eyes when he felt his head lose control.
“Oh, oh, oh! Hyung!”
The giant of a stranger suddenly caught Yoongi by his shoulders before he could fall back down again, a strained grunt leaving the man as he tried to hold all of Yoongi’s weight by his arms.
“Oh shit,” Yoongi heard someone else call out, coming back to his senses as his eyes flew open again.
“Here, have some water.”
Yoongi couldn’t resist the force that spread his mouth open, water flowing into his parched mouth like a burst of freshness that he didn’t realize he desperately needed. Blinking away the black spots in his vision, Yoongi nodded to signal that he had drunk enough.
“Hyung, are you okay?” asked the same loud voice.
Yoongi turned slowly, eyes locking with the man who was too close to Yoongi for his liking.
“Who are you?”
The tall man looked to the side to his friend who was also confused.
“Did you forget me? I’m Mingyu. That’s Woozi.”
Yoongi looked in the direction of the man who had brought the bottle of water for him.
“Hi,” Woozi greeted him with a small smile.
Yoongi was still frowning in confusion, too dazed to pinpoint where he had met these men before. “Are you guys from our company?”
“SEVENTEEN,” Mingyu replied. He couldn’t help but raise a finger to poke into the side of Yoongi’s head.
“Did you hurt your head so bad that you forgot us? You cooked dinner for Jungkook-ah and me when we stayed over last week, remember?”
“Ah… the 97-liner's dinner night.” Yoongi nodded.
“Are you okay, hyung-nim?” Woozi asked.
“Uh yeah, yeah. I don’t know what happened.” Yoongi glanced to the flight of stairs that he had been making his way down a few minutes ago.
“When was the last time you ate?” Woozi inquired.
“Uh, in the morning, maybe. I had some coffee with Hoseok.”
“You had a coffee on an empty stomach?”
“I like to.”
Woozi gave Yoongi a pointed look. “That’s why you fell. It’s 7:30 PM right now.”
“Come eat with us, hyung! We were just about to go to the hall to eat.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll just go back to the studio.”
“I don’t really think you have much of a choice,” Woozi shrugged with a smirk.
Soon, Yoongi yelled out in surprise when he was lifted off of the floor, Mingyu picking him up effortlessly with an accomplished grin shining brightly on his face.
“Mingyu! Put me down this instant!”
“Not until you’re done eating as much as I wish to feed you.”
It was obvious.
It was so obvious that something was wrong the moment Yoongi entered the dining hall along with Mingyu and Woozi, it made his toes curl with a cringe that reflected directly onto his face.
Jungkook’s voice died down in an instant the moment his eyes landed on his hyung, whatever conversation that he was in with the rest of the boys dissipating as if it had never been there.
Jungkook was a man of respect, a man that knew how to respect and a man who could earn respect for himself in return. So just like his elders had correctly taught him, Jungkook welcomed Yoongi, even if it brought a bitter taste to his tongue.
“Ah, hyung. You’re here.”
The sound of chairs scraping against the wooden flooring made Yoongi wince, the headache that was pounding in his head still very much alive and excruciating.
Two voices greeted Yoongi, the men receiving a small smile in return.
“I hope you remember us, Yoongi-ssi,” Kihyun smiled, stretching an arm across the table full of food to shake hands with Yoongi.
“I certainly do. I see you guys often here.”
“Are you doing well?” asked Minhyuk. Yoongi nodded, although far from well.
“I am. How are you both?”
“We’re rocking!” Kihyun smiled brightly, briefly greeting Mingyu and Woozi before everyone settled. Yoongi sat between Minhyuk and Woozi, noticing an empty seat beside Jungkook but not finding it in him to walk all the way across the table to sit there.
“The food here looks so good, no wonder we always come here,” Minhyuk grinned at the sight of several plates of authentic Korean dishes that almost covered the entire table, a sight that was enough to get everyone’s mouth to water.
Even Yoongi, for that matter. Yoongi had been too absorbed in his own work for a long period of time that he himself couldn’t remember, basically living on sausages, instant noodles, or gimpab. Not that he was complaining, but the bowl of mul naengmyeon – Korean cold noodle soup – that was almost filled to the brim that sat in front of him made him realize that he was hungry.
Hungry for food that he had been deprived of for the longest time, and with a little smile that he sent in Mingyu’s direction – that was the best he could offer – Yoongi felt grateful for having a meal, with people around him.
“Hey!” Woozi frowned. “I thought you guys visit to meet us.”
“Yeah, we’re side-tracked now. I see what friendship means to you guys.” Mingyu’s eyes narrowed accusingly at the two guys who were giggling into their hands like little teenagers.
“What century are you all living in? We’re Koreans. Our hearts are Korean. And most importantly, our stomachs are Korean. Food comes before anything else.”
Kihyun chuckled at Minhyuk’s words, patting his friend on the back. “Spot on.”
“I see,” Mingyu scoffed, shaking his head with fake disgust and looking towards Jungkook.
“That guy right there. Learn something from your dongsaengs! We value people more than food.”
“Shut up and eat before I throw some of this kimchi juice on you,” Kihyun warned.
Yoongi didn’t miss the small smile on Jungkook’s face that had disappeared as soon as it grew, eyes downcast at his food without a single word spoken. There was just so much pain that Yoongi was responsible for, especially those closest to him. But his heart twisted with regret to see the maknae get so terribly shaken by all of this. Yoongi felt the first tinge of shame tug at his insides at the sight of the younger man whom he had proudly brought up for the past few years. He could only hope that somehow, someday, Jungkook would be able to look back at his hyung with pride. But the odds were highly unlikely for that.
He had accompanied Jungkook to school, cooked for him, watched over him with a fatherly gaze that made Yoongi’s chin stick out with pride at every little thing the maknae mastered. He had taught the fellow how to drink too, going on to become maekju buddies, teaching Jungkook the perfect ratio of beer and soju that would make a mind-boggling drink, 4:6, a number that Yoongi was sure Jungkook would never forget. Jungkook would fondly recite the numbers each time he would pour the soju into the tall glass, filling up the rest with ice-cold beer that had both of them, well, three of them, laughing whole-heartedly for the rest of the night.
The third person being another maknae that Yoongi had once been exceptionally close to; Jimin.
The maknae that stood at the entrance of the hall with a deep frown etched onto his face, a cold gaze fixated on Yoongi before he looked away in disgust.
Jungkook’s lips rolled into a tight line in fear of both of his hyungs creating a scene in front of people who had no idea of what was going on behind the scenes.
“Ah, oh—yes… Eat up, guys! I just came to see you; I’ll catch you-”
“No, no, no, eat with us!”
“I’ve got some work to do,” Jimin tried to explain, not even bothering to spare Yoongi a glance. Biting his lips in response to that, Yoongi silently twirled the stainless steel chopsticks with his fingers, feeling hurt but knowing that there was nothing he could do to repair the damage that he had done.
“Hyung, eat with us,” Mingyu whined, mimicking Jimin’s pout and shaking his shoulders. “We haven’t eaten together in so long!”
“Really, I’ll meet you guys some other time,” Jimin tried again, hopelessly looking towards Jungkook who shrugged.
“Eat with us,” Jungkook said simply, patting the empty seat beside him. That made Jimin sigh, knowing that there was no way out of this.
“That’s right!” Kihyun cheered, “No one here wants you to go. What do you say, Yoongi-ssi?”
Yoongi swallowed, looking up and nodding without any thought.
“You’ve probably not eaten, so stay.”
Jimin looked down at Jungkook who was nervously chewing on his lips, nodding and patting the maknae on his head.
“Okay. Since the maknae insisted, I’ll eat with you guys.”
Woozi glanced in Yoongi’s directly with a frown. Jimin had openly ignored Yoongi’s words, and somehow the blank expression on both of their faces spoke volumes. But for the sake of keeping the peace, he stayed silent.
“Thank you for the food!”
Ten minutes into the meal and the room is filled with heartfelt – yet extremely loud – chit chats, joyous laughs over lame jokes, and pieces of meat or fish that were being transferred from one bowl to another as an act of love. Brotherly love, if you will.
Something that Yoongi has also been deprived of for the longest time. It made him frown, that much he would admit, but Yoongi had blamed the sniffles on the chili that he had bit into while devouring his noodles. Jimin and Jungkook had soon broken the ice, the ice that had formed instantly the moment Yoongi had stepped foot into the hall, and even though it was quite a sight to see, Yoongi couldn’t help but feel dejected.
He couldn’t help but feel unwanted.
Not that the others were not welcoming enough, but the unsettling thought that if the cloth that was covering his mistakes was drawn, he would be too ashamed and bare, knowing that this treatment would naturally be a return gift from the rest of the boys too. So Yoongi sat quietly with his eyes following the conversation but heart elsewhere, not feeling like he deserved to be a part of a gathering that was filled with so much love.
“But I must say,” Mingyu pointed his chopsticks up aimlessly. “BTS has truly been an inspiration to us. The entire music industry too.”
“Mhm,” Minhyuk agreed with a firm nod.
“I mean, we all have had our fair share of struggles and pains. There is no point in comparing who went through worse shit, but each member of BTS has really taught us the meaning of teamwork.”
Jungkook smiled at Woozi’s words.
“I’ve never seen a bond as strong as you guys,” Kihyun shook his head. “I mean, sure, we all are a part of a group and we all love our members so much, but you guys are on another level.”
Mingyu and Woozi both nodded in agreement.
“Ya’ll are basically family.”
Somehow, Jimin and Yoongi both looked up at that statement, eyes briefly meeting before Yoongi looked away.
“Yeah,” Jimin agreed with Jungkook, a sudden wave of sadness washing over his expression.
“And I really can’t talk about this enough, but I’ve seen RM hyung and Suga hyung work, like personally,” said Mingyu with a determined raise of his eyebrows. “It’s insane!”
Yoongi chose to wipe his mouth.
“Namjoon hyung is out of this world,” Jungkook smiled fondly. “He’s my role model.”
“The whole world knows that, Jungkook.”
“As they should.”
Woozi didn’t let the awkward silence settle.
“Yoongi hyung is extremely talented too.” Woozi placed a gentle hand on Yoongi’s shoulder. “I get a lot of inspiration from him. In terms of music, relationships, life. Everything.”
And Jimin tried really hard to hold back the scoff that almost made its way out of his throat.
“Right. You might want to rethink the whole ‘relationships’ part of your package.”
Woozi frowned at that.
“That sounds rich coming from you, Jimin. You both fight like an old married couple all the time, it’s quite obvious you both’ve had a tiff before this dinner as well.”
Jimin’s jaw clenched, nodding and forcing a laugh out.
“Guys, who’s up for some ice cream?” Jungkook quickly stood up out of his chair, attempting to distract everyone from the tension that had already begun to set over the entire evening.
“Me,” Minhyuk raised his hand.
“I’ll pass,” Kihyun shook his head.
“I’ll have some,” Mingyu nodded in Jungkook’s direction.
“Me too,” said Woozi.
“Okay! Jiminie hyung?” Jungkook turned to face the sulking man. “Ice-cream?”
Jungkook nodded with a soft smile.
“Okay. I’ll take the same flavor as you.”
“Alright. Uh—” Jungkook cleared his throat. “Yoongi hyung?”
“Hmm?” Yoongi looked up, red eyes brimming with tears of exhaustion and pain. Jungkook felt his stomach clench painfully at the sight of his hyung.
“Will you have some ice cream with us?”
Yoongi swallowed, a light-hearted laugh vibrating through his chest.
“Nah. I’m good. You guys go ahead.”
And so they did. Slowly, each member got up and patted Yoongi on the shoulder before they eventually made their way out of the hall. Woozi lingered around for just a moment longer, worried eyes watching over the man who had his face downcast.
Yoongi looked up.
“Make sure you eat well, please.”
Yoongi scratched at his eyebrow, suddenly feeling too overwhelmed with emotions and sensing the urge to break down then and there. It had just been too long since someone had told him that, and what hurt the most was that all he could remember was you reminding him to eat healthy meals instead of those stupid sausages that he would always munch on.
“If you need someone to talk to, or eat with, I’m always here. Please remember that. Always.”
With a trembling hand, Yoongi patted Woozi’s arm. “Thank you, Woozi.”
“Go on,” he urged Woozi to follow the little crowd that was standing at the door. “Have fun.”
“Take care, hyung.”
A loud uproar of laughter caught their attention, everyone’s eyes on Minhyuk who appeared to be flustered, shaking his hands violently with a wide, embarrassed grin on his face.
“Minhyuk-ah!” Kihyun yelled out in surprise. “Really?”
“No, no!” Minhyuk laughed heartily, firmly denying it. “I don’t!”
“I know you do!” Mingyu accused him with a deep smirk, pointing a finger right in his face. “You do have a girlfriend!”
“I don’t, guys!” The man blushed furiously, shaking his hands desperately as if that would make everyone believe him.
“Ooooooooo!” Everyone hollered at the revelation, not believing the innocent victim’s words at all. “Who is she?”
“I don’t have a girlfriend! Mingyu is lying—”
Woozi patted Yoongi on the back again.
“They’re quite loud, aren’t they?”
With a watery smile, Yoongi shook his head.
“I’ve quite missed the noise.”
Sat in the corner of the room
Everything's reminding me of you
Nursing an empty bottle
And telling myself you're happier, aren't you?
The air was light, something floating around seamlessly over the two of you. Seated on the floor with a low wooden table that held a plate of half-eaten mushroom tartlets and two wine glasses, a bottle of Skinnygirl Moscato stood tall in between both of you.
“Is that really what you thought of me?”
“You really were such a party-pooper, Yoongi.”
“Says the person who locked herself in the bathroom for an hour after singing one song in front of everyone!”
“That was embarrassing! I was basically squeaking like a duck that had a rock stuck in its throat.”
“Nah,” Yoongi chuckled, taking a sip of his wine. “You were great.”
“Was not. But you really ruined the party that day, not me.” With a pout, you glared at him playfully.
“How did I do that?”
“What’s the whole point of a party? You spend time with your friends, drink, have fun, eat some good food, get drunk, do shit that you regret, and never speak of it again. But you!” An accusing finger poked Yoongi’s chest.
“You really showed us your true colors that day, grandpa.”
“Grandpa?” Yoongi guffawed with a dramatic slap to his thigh. “What the heck!”
“Yup. You were so calm even though you drank most of the whiskey that Jimin brought, and that poor fellow was falling to the floor because he wanted to show us one dance move, but he was too drunk to stand.”
Yoongi nodded with a laugh, reaching into the plate and picking up a tartlet.
“Argh, Jiminie, that guy is cool.”
“And you were not so cool. You literally began to lecture him for drinking so much and then you made him and Taehyung cry.”
“I did?” he giggled sheepishly.
“Yup. You scolded them for always being the loudest. Poor guys.” You clicked your tongue. “Do you remember what you told them that day?”
Yoongi shook his head. “Enlighten me, ma’am.”
“You put your glass down and got all serious and looked at Jin and Namjoon and went, ‘Argh…I’ve been having these headaches, they come and they go…’ and we all we so focused on what you were about to say next.”
“And then?” Yoongi already began to bite back his laughter.
“And then Jimin and Taehyung walked back into the room and you went, ‘There! It’s back again!’”
Yoongi almost snorted at that, bending forward to hide his head, giggling uncontrollably with shaking shoulders. “No way.”
“Yes way, Grandpa Min,” you chuckled with an enamored shake of your head.
“But why would you call me a grandpa for that?”
“I think that was an impression that stuck with me for a long time. I didn’t know you that well back then. My lord—” you wondered out loud. “Was that really six years ago?”
“Time flies. And it brought us here. You, single and probably not so ready to mingle, sitting here and drinking with me, a grandpa who ruins parties and scolds my friends.”
You sniffed. “Right.”
“Do you like this wine?” Yoongi asked you curiously.
Taking in a sip, you smiled fondly at the white wine swirling around in your glass.
Yoongi scoffed, shaking his head at you. “Why did you bring this then?”
“Hmm…” you appeared to be deep in thought. “No reason.”
“Did you maybe…” a light smirk played at the corner of his lips, “want to make this evening a little more romantic?”
“Romantic?” you parroted lamely, caught red-handed. “No?”
“Aye,” he nudged your knee with his toes. “Liar.”
“Am not. The bottle looked pretty so I picked it up.”
“Really?” Yoongi’s head fell back with laughter. “You picked it up just because it looked pretty?”
“Okay, what if I…” Yoongi shuffled around, getting up with a grunt and dusting off his hands.
“What if you what?”
“What if I…” He smirked evilly, swooping down and slipping one arm beneath your knees and the other around your back, lifting you up and against his chest, “...picked you up too?”
“Yoongi!” you screeched, desperately clutching onto the collar of his shirt. “Put me down!”
“Why? I should get a fair chance too.”
Your eyes widened. “To do what?”
“To pick up what I think looks pretty.”
Rendered speechless, you looked into his eyes that sparkled under the yellow lights that lined the ceiling, a hint of mischief and a stroke of honesty shining brightly in those dark brown orbs of his. Yoongi chuckled at your lack of response, clearly amused by the effect he had on you.
“Your cheeks are pink.”
You gasped, covering them and crying dramatically. “No!”
“They’re probably warm too. That’s what happens when you blush.”
“They’re not-” you paused. “How would you even know they’re warm? Have you blushed before?”
“No. I can see it.”
“You can’t see heat, Yoongi,” you deadpanned. “You have to feel it.”
“My hands are a little busy right now,” he gestured towards your body that he was still holding up. “Maybe I’ll have to work my way around it.”
“Look at that window,” his head pointed to the French windows in front of you. The reflection of him carrying you left you feeling even more flustered, but you blinked and willed yourself to focus. Just as you were about to ask him what he wanted you to do next, the words got stuck in your throat.
As if in slow motion, you watched his reflection lean forward towards your face, lips slightly puckered into a pout that was clearly visible against the glass window before they landed against your cheek. You froze completely, eyes still trained on his reflection that didn’t move, his lips soft against the flaming skin on your cheek.
And just like that, he pulled away.
“You are blushing.”
You blinked, too stunned to reply.
“Your ears are red too.”
Breath in, you thought.
“Do you want me to feel them?”
“Is your lipstick maroon or red?”
Don’t pass out.
“I’ve been wondering if your lips dry up when you get flustered. Should I check?”
Almost robotically, your head turned to face him.
“Are they heating up too?”
Maybe it would be okay to pass out.
“You’re blushing again.”
Okay (Y/n), play dead.
And maybe you should have, because the next thing you knew, Yoongi was placing you back down on the floor. A pang of disappointment pulled your eyebrows into a frown.
“Let me get you some ice to cool you down.”
You stood frozen in your place as Yoongi began to make his way into the kitchen, too numb to stop him and ask him; what the hell was that?
Had you made it too obvious that you liked him?
Was he pulling your leg and teasing you for that?
Was he… for real?
“No, no, no…” you shook your head, reassuring yourself that you were probably overthinking. Yoongi could never like you. It had been six years and he had made sure everyone knew that you were just a good friend. A friend that had always been there for him, a friend who cooked with him, a friend who went fishing with him and put up with him whenever he made a fuss, a friend who liked to massage his shoulders and back when he was too stressed, a friend who ate almost every meal with him, a friend who…fell in love with him along the way. You didn’t really have much time to think because Yoongi’s whistle alerted you of his return.
You blinked lamely as Yoongi made his way back to you, lips somehow glistening as if he had washed them. Looking down, he came back to you empty-handed.
“Where’s the ice?” you croaked, clearing your throat soon after.
“Here.” His hands were wet, fingers dripping with water when they pointed up to his mouth.
His hands were…cold. Freezing, if you will.
That was the first observation you made when they came in contact with your cheeks, a little squeak of surprise coming from you at the sensation. Icy hands against your cheeks that were burning up by the second, Yoongi smiled.
The corners of his eyes crinkled slightly, meeting your own with a gentle, almost comforting gaze before they fluttered closed.
And that’s when you found out that his lips were really cold too.
Almost as if he had run an ice-cube over them, but that did not last too long. When his lips initially touched yours, it was as if you warmed them up in an instant, soothing the numbing sting that you didn’t know he had experienced briefly in the kitchen to help facilitate his little plan. His palms were still flat against your cheeks but they didn’t stay that way for too long either. One slipped further past your ears and into your hair, went fingers giving him a better grip that held you firmly to him.
The other hand dropped lower, a shiver running down your spine when his icy fingertips danced along the length of your throat, finally flattening it there and resting the base of his wrist against the crook of your neck.
He tugged you in closer, eyes sealed closed and bodies burning with passion, kissing you like that had been his motive all along. Lips that were making its home against yours moved fluidly, almost as if they had a mind of their own, skilfully pulling in your bottom lip before carefully letting his teeth graze them.
Giving you a taste of what you had been missing and what you no longer needed to miss. Getting a taste of you and reveling in the sensation of it. Loving every tiny sound that he pulled from you and reciprocating with passionate groans of his own. Showing you that there was no other place you needed to be.
Rather, showing you that you were finally home.
A home that he had broken.
A home that he missed.
A home that he couldn’t find a way back to.
Yoongi had almost laughed, pitying himself when the glass slipped from his hands and onto the floor beside his thigh, a clean cut that separated the body of the glass from a small piece that broke off. The ice began to melt, the cotton material of his grey joggers darkening when it absorbed a little bit of the whiskey that splattered onto it. He looked down at it with a watery smile, tears falling perpendicularly and forming tiny circle waves as they dripped straight into the little puddle of alcohol on the floor.
Had he really done that?
The way the glass had broken was the way he pictured how he had hurt you. A clean slash through your heart. A wound that time could stitch back.
Not too many scars to hide.
Not too much effort to heal.
But the pain that tugged at his heart said otherwise. It spoke volumes, screaming at him and showing him his reflection in the mirror saying look! This is what she felt when you shattered her heart.
Yoongi clutched at his chest, the material of his t-shirt bunching up within his grasp, a low gasp escaping his throat before a long line of saliva began to drip past his lower lip. He was too drunk to notice how horrible he looked, but he wasn’t drunk enough to wash away the pain that was killing him from inside.
The three empty bottles of whiskey that lay beside him hadn’t been enough. He thought it would, but it hadn’t been enough.
His ex-girlfriend who killed a part of him that he didn’t even know about hadn’t been enough, either.
The punches that Jimin threw at him and the disappointment that was painted across each of his member’s faces hadn’t been enough.
He deserved to rot in hell.
He deserved to be punished for what he had done to you but somehow the punishment wasn’t enough.
Because only you had been.
Only you had been enough.
You had been more than enough.
So with a shaky hand and a strangled cry, he opened up the contact list of his phone. A bang resounded through the kitchen when his head fell back against the marbled counter, barely registering the pain and almost dropping the phone before his trembling fingers pushed it against his earlobe.
He had enough.
Yoongi needed someone.
Yoongi didn’t want to be alone anymore.
And the little sound that alerted him that the phone had been picked up lifted the corners of his lips into a faint smile.
Continue Reading 📄
Taglist: Requested by @persefoneniverse
@somewhereinthestarss, @belladaises, @readwithlivvy, @taelici0us @koalasandcuddles @aria-grace-scott, @introlxv
Back to Part 1
Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader
Word Count: 5k
Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING! Curse words, Mentions of Cheating, Suggestive Themes, Mature Scenes, Physical Fights, Abortion, hinted Depression and Reliance on Alcohol, Attempted Suicide.
Special Appearances: Kim Mingyu and Woozi from SEVENTEEN, Kihyun and Minhyuk from MONSTA X.
Happier ~Olivia Rodrigo
Blue and Gray ~BTS
Happier ~Ed Sheeran
"You look happier..."
"I just want to be happier-"
"Don't be happier."
Summary: Yoongi finds himself looking for his happiness and freedom in another woman, leaving you behind with a broken heart and fading memories. But the moment he realizes that he was happier with you, might just be a moment too late. Alternatively, Yoongi cheats on you but struggles to let you go when he sees that you're happier without him.
Note: Italicized passages and segments either represent situations taking place in the past or alternatively, at the same time in a different place.
I just wanna be happier;
Melt me, I'm cold
I've reached out my hand countless times
The echo is colorless
Oh, this ground feels so heavier
I am singing by myself
I just wanna be happier
Am I being too greedy?
Something that you had never felt against your skin for the longest time, comforted you.
Not in a way you thought you wanted, but in a way you needed.
The heat of his touch against the bare skin of your back shielded you, guided you further against his own body.
Speaking to you with wordless movements and telling you that it’s okay.
You’re alright now.
Smooth skin that wiped away your tears and pulled your face into a safe haven that you had finally found for yourself. A place that you never wanted to leave.
A place that promised never to leave.
His skin was warm against yours, radiating love and comfort when he held your hands within his, telling you that you were no longer lost.
He had found you.
And he doesn’t want to lose you.
Thoughtful arms that protected your trembling frame and scaring away every fear that had been feasting on you. Warming you up with love. Telling you that it’s okay, you don’t need to fear the cold anymore.
He would heal you.
He would comfort you.
He would make you happy, again.
“I can’t— I can’t brea-”
“Shh…” his voice comforted you, gentle and soft, not wanting to let it overlap your own words but still wanting to be present.
“I- I need him; I need him back!”
The man never winced at the scream that came from you, pulling you by your shoulders further against his chest. Consistent pats to your back, smoothening out your damp hair, and using the sleeve of his sweatshirt to wipe at your clammy skin, he stayed with you. Right there on the bathroom floor.
“Can you get me my Yoongi? I need him to hold me, I need him to tell me that this was all a dream! Please!”
So he held you instead. His touch told you that this wasn’t a dream, but rather the bittersweet relief of being woken up from a nightmare. The end of a conflict that made you want to suffer a little more just to see how it ends but knowing that you didn’t need to always have control that way. Warm lips to your forehead, he tugged you further into the warmth of his embrace.
“You’re not alone anymore.”
“Yoongi…” your jaw clenched with each sob, too broken and too weak to take this pain anymore. Fingers clutching the material of his sweatshirt, pulling it closer to your mouth that continued to spill out hopeless murmurs of the name that you had once engraved onto the tablet of your heart. A name that was being burnt away like a cover over a tattoo that you didn’t want anymore.
Eyes that were brimming with sorrow glanced at the bottle of pills that lay against the tiled flooring.
He had reached you in time. He had saved you in time.
He would never let go of that hope that your body clung to in him.
He was the flicker of hope that your soul never let burn out.
He would never let that burn out.
And so he held your face like one man once had, letting his own body comfort you and for once, just distract you from the blinding pain that never stopped drying up the life out of you.
Lips that moved tenderly against your own trembling ones, arms that picked you up and carried you back to the sacred space of your bed, thumbs that never ceased to wipe away the tears that dripped down your temples, he comforted you.
Skin to skin and your hands held in his, he let you pull him closer. He let you weep and he let you fall back against the sheets because this time, he was there to catch you.
He worshipped hidden spots of skin and showered every inch of you with love that he knew you deserved. He tugged you higher up against his own bare chest and let you feel him with everything that had once held you back.
He loved you, that night.
He loved you, the day after that.
He loved you, the week after that.
He gave you love.
Even if he never expected you to give that back, he loved you like there was nothing else he was brought into this world to do.
And just like that, he healed you.
I just wanna be happier
It took three good months for Suga of BTS to heal from a relapsed shoulder injury that was caused during a performance. A performance he had never been to and a casualty that never took place. But this little lie had done Yoongi good, giving him time and a much-needed break away from the world of music and the hyped life that he was called to live.
It didn’t even take Yoongi a day to settle back into the humble house in his hometown, Daegu. His mother cared for him. Too much to hold his sins against him. So she welcomed her son back home with open arms and a meal that brought tears to Yoongi’s eyes. He ate until he couldn’t anymore and he cried until he had no more tears left to shed.
His mother had nursed him back to good health, even if he had to just sit and heal for three months straight. She kept repeating the same thing to him each time she oiled his hair and fed him chicken broth every morning.
“Give your body the time it needs to heal.”
And Yoongi had been sick. For the longest time.
His health began to deteriorate drastically after the woman that walked out of his life had given him a taste of his own poison. He was never one to be a hypochondriac, but the weird aches in this head and the bright spots in the vision of his right eye began to concern him. His grip grew weak up until the point where even holding a pen to write had become a task.
He would pass out frequently too, making an excuse that he hadn’t eaten, but it wasn’t much of a lie, either. Yoongi had begun to live on foods that were unhealthy and that left him malnourished and leaning on alcohol as support that only proved to be a slow poison. It was as if his body had begun to give up on him, and that’s when he knew he had had enough.
His mother was someone who could give him back the life he had abused.
She never spoke a word about anything that could poke at his sensitive past. She was kind and understanding and had nothing but love to offer to her son who sought help in her. She began to take walks along the beach every morning with her hands wrapped around his arm, telling him to walk barefoot and feel every bit of the touch of nature that he could at that moment.
She made it a point to fix Yoongi’s sleep schedules, scolding him and sitting by his side until he had completed a full 8-hour sleep. Regularly, she fed him nourishing meals and fruits and herbs that she used to brew her teas with, slapping away his hand that would reach for the little bottle of coffee in her kitchen.
It was torture, but that healed Yoongi.
It gave him back the strength that he had lost and somehow he bonded even more with his dog that would never leave his side.
One thing she made Yoongi understand was that even though he had made a horrible mistake in the past, he too had the right to be happy.
She showed him that blaming himself and believing that he didn’t deserve to be happy had been the very reason that opened the doors of wrath upon his head.
And the most evident of them all, the words that kept Yoongi up at night even with his eyes closed because his mother was watching over him like a hawk, the words that helped drive him further towards a healthier lifestyle as fast as he could, essentially gave him back his hope.
“You need to be strong to win her back.”
And so, Yoongi smiled a little, breathing in the fresh air and listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks for the last time, shoulders broader and stomach sticking out a little but feeling fitter than ever, Yoongi bid farewell to his hometown.
A car had been sent for him, and he had been grateful for that too. His mother had taught him how to value the little things in life. And this was a moral he was going to put into practice even when he returned to his apartment back in Seoul.
Walking up to the car that he could see in the distance, a figure that stood beside it had made him stop in his tracks. Covered in black from head to toe, Yoongi felt his throat constrict, fingers curling tighter around the handle of his bag.
There was just no way, he thought, gulping when the figure began to walk towards him.
Eyes that filled with tears met with another pair that mirrored his expression, tongue darting out to swipe against his lower lip. The sky was darkening, clouds covering the expanse of the heavens and adding to the beauty of the cold breeze that made Yoongi sniffle. But nothing could compare to the full-lipped smile that he had not seen for even longer than he could remember.
The bag dropped from Yoongi’s hands when a pair of arms circled around his shoulders, pain-filled cries making Yoongi’s heart clench, enveloping the younger into a warm embrace.
“Can I tell you how much I hate you?” Jimin blubbered into Yoongi’s shoulder, fingers grasping at his coat desperately.
“Don’t hate me,” Yoongi uttered in a broken whisper.
“I hate you so much.”
His face scrunched up, unable to hold it in anymore. Hot tears rolled down the pale skin of his cheeks, his chest and shoulders shuddering with each sob that he could no longer control.
“I know you do.”
“Why—” Jimin sniffled, pulling away and wiping at his bright pink nose. “Why did you fall sick? Didn’t we all tell you that that wasn’t an option? Do you really not care for us?”
“I told you at the beginning of the year that I would punch you if you fell sick, and that’s exactly what you did. Should I punch you?” Jimin held up a weak fist.
“Is this how you treat your hyung?” Yoongi teased him with a little laugh.
“Is this how you treat your younger brother?” Jimin retorted, frowning deeply at the man he had missed terribly.
Yoongi looked down at his shoes with a nod of regret.
“I’m sorry, Jimin-ah.”
“This is the longest time I’ve gone without seeing you in the past 10 years. Did you really have to take three months off? Why did you never call us? Why did you never call me?”
“I know you hated me, Jimin-ah.”
“I was angry, hyung. I was angry. But you fell sick and you visited so many doctors and not once did you care to tell us that it was so serious? Why did we have to find out from your mum after you came back here?”
“I didn’t think I deserved to ask you guys to help me.”
“Hyung,” Jimin frowned. “We’re family, too.”
“I let you all down, though.”
“We kind of let you down too. Especially me. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you when you needed us the most, hyung.”
Yoongi smiled gently. “Don’t be. I’m fine now.”
Yoongi embraced his dongsaeng once again, this time wrapping his arms around Jimin’s shoulders. Soft, consistent pats comforted Jimin, fingers to his coat and chin over his shoulder. Sniffling in sync, both the brothers eventually pulled away with an awkward laugh. Jimin volunteered to carry Yoongi’s bag.
“I didn’t think you’d come to pick me up.”
“It’s only obvious that I missed you the most,” Jimin pouted, looking straight ahead after shoving one of his hands inside the pocket of his black coat. Yoongi laughed fondly at his words.
“I missed you too, Jimin-ah. I really did.”
“You’ve put on a lot of weight,” Jimin observed, squeezing Yoongi’s arm.
“Yeah, I’ve eaten enough for a year.”
“I’ve been asked to ensure you keep eating that way.”
Yoongi turned to look at him. “By whom?”
“A fairy godmother,” Jimin smirked.
“Hmm… I like your hair,” Yoongi suddenly complimented him.
“It’s much longer now, isn’t it?”
The streets of Seoul caused a burst of adrenaline to rush through Yoongi’s body, hands fidgeting in his lap and eyes trailing over the passing buildings and cars that he had not seen for the past three months. He had missed out on so much, and one of the things he was most excited about was to finally meet the rest of his band members again. He had missed them so much that in the secrecy of his little room back in Daegu, Yoongi had managed to write three songs about them.
“We heard about…uh…” Jimin trailed off, lips rolling into a straight line. “The baby.”
Yoongi kept a straight face, nodding and looking out the window. “Okay.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“There was not much I could do about it, I’d rather not bring that up right now.”
Jimin acknowledged his reply, but a little thought nudged at him from the inside.
“Hyung, can I ask you something?”
“Do you miss (Y/n)?”
Eyes widening in surprise, his heart suddenly began to race at the mention of your name, blinking rapidly and noticing how the buildings that he was focusing on had now become a grey blur.
“Why do you ask?”
“We miss her a lot,” Jimin admitted quietly. “We tried to contact her.”
Yoongi looked towards Jimin. “Did she answer?”
“She replied to Namjoon hyung’s message. But that was it. Nothing more. It’s been over four months now.”
“You tried to contact her when I was here?” Yoongi briefly pointed out towards the streets of Seoul.
“Yeah, it was around the time when everyone noticed you were falling ill, and your mother asked us to call her.”
“My mother?” Yoongi’s eyes widened. “She never told me that.”
“She didn’t want you to know. She believed that only (Y/n) could fix you. I’m pretty sure she still believes that.”
“What did Namjoon ask in the message?”
“He asked her if she was doing alright and if we all could meet, without you – of course. But she said that she was no longer in Korea.”
“Did she say when she would be back?”
Jimin nodded. “She said in a few months.”
“It’s been a few months.”
A tense silence took over the car, faint honks and the frequent ticks of the indicators accompanying them, both men falling deep into the well of their own thoughts. Jimin couldn’t help but wonder if Yoongi could ever be the same hyung that he once knew just a year ago. Even though in his eyes, Yoongi had been a person who preferred to stay silent and enjoyed being in his own little bubble most of the time, there was a difference in the man who was sitting beside Jimin in the car that evening.
The old Yoongi and the new Yoongi walked in parallel lines, along the same path with the same destiny, but they could never think of crossing even once. A barrier that had injured his ability to be the same person that he was, a pain that always pulled him back.
And even though Yoongi felt much better than he did a few months ago, there was a grey cloud that sat tight over his head, following him like an evident shadow and threatening to burst at any moment. There was a time back in Daegu when this little cloud had almost become his comfort. A pleasant scent to his nose and a hand of assurance over his shoulder, telling him that this guilt would never leave his side. It would walk with him until the day he takes his last breath and would even hint at a possibility to be a loving company in his next life if he ever has one.
The guilt would love being with him and cherishing him and reminding him of all the beautiful things he has done in life, drawing him a beautiful portrait of the night he left you weeping on the floor so that he could hang it up on the walls of his heart. The guilt that had fallen asleep for a while but now vowed to be alert and show up in times he least needed it, because of course, it had become his best friend now.
That…was evident. It was so obvious that it made Jimin’s chest burn with worry, a little sapling of hope that had begun to grow within his soul, a hope that his hyung would finally grow a pair and smack himself in the head just to realize that he needed you, a hope that shied away at the intensity of the scorching heat of the sun that threatened to burn it away, a hope that began to sway wildly at the force of the winds that came with the rain that threatened to wash it away.
A hope that he wanted to hold onto.
So with a warm hand against Yoongi’s shoulder, Jimin spoke with an unknown confidence.
“Can you win (Y/n) back?”
Cause baby, you look happier, you do
I knew one day you'd fall for someone new
The end of a tiring day.
Yoongi had faced it worse than the others after the leisurely break time that he had spent his precious three months on.
Yoongi was a man who worked.
Day in and day out until his body could no longer stay upright. A man who admired others who worked and had never in a million years imagined that a gap of three months could be so difficult to cope with.
The boys had been a massive support, Yoongi noted in his diary. A little brown book that his mother asked him to fill in things that made him feel grateful. The boys had welcomed him back with open arms just like his mother had and also made sure to feed him good food and take him out whenever possible.
Jungkook made sure Yoongi tagged along when the muscular pigs made their little trips down to the gym every other evening. Jin dragged Yoongi to some water body he found on the way to the other side of town, for fishing. Not that they caught any, but it’s the thought that counts. Taehyung and Jimin made a mess in the kitchen while Hoseok and Yoongi sat comfortably on the couch with a recipe for some north-eastern dish that he couldn’t even pronounce the name of, yelling instructions across the hall and wincing at Hoseok’s banshee-like screams of laughter when Taehyung brought back a pan of burnt fish that he completely forgot about.
They had their ways of showing Yoongi that they were there for him, with him, and that brought the fondest smile to Yoongi’s face as his pen scribbled across the paper. Yoongi loved such days, the setting sun hidden behind a cloud cover of rain-filled cotton candy, shining courageously through its descent until a beautiful pink and orange hue enveloped the surrounding with a tinge of romance and light-hearted happiness.
He had made this a habit – something that he had been doing a lot recently – sitting in solitude with a book and pen, one leg crossed over the other, and a little hat that covered just enough of his face to maintain a discreet disguise.
He wrote about all things happy and all things sad and sometimes used fancy poetry to describe such sunsets, a trait that he picked up from a book Namjoon had recommended. He would write about the little grandma who looked like a stout teapot that walked her dog along the footpath beside the river, he would sometimes attempt to sketch out the faces of a happy-looking couple that he had seen walking hand in hand, and sometimes he wrote about the river itself.
Namhangang, the word that literally translates to South Han River, was something that interested Yoongi quite a bit.
Nam-Han, the word that was formed by two coincidental yet incredibly opposing names, Namhan and Bukhan, meaning South Korea and North Korea respectively. The native Korean suffix –han, in this context meant ‘great’, ‘large’, and ‘wide’, but it also meant ‘One’ in the Korean Number System. Of much importance to Korean History, River Han is popularly recognized for its strategic significance as the main canal connecting the peninsula’s central western region to the Yellow Sea and its fertile alluvial banks.
Not that he ever remembered these facts from a geography class back in his school days, no. He was too busy sleeping to even pay attention to anything as such back then. He had looked these up on the internet, wanting to be as well versed with everything that had to do with his country as possible. So while noting them down, Yoongi began to draw lines of similarity to the water body that he would sit in front of every other evening.
A name formed by two opposing characters. South and North Korea.
That’s pretty much how it had been with you and him. Coincidental, yet it made perfect sense. The world could write a book on how different you both were, as simple individuals. You were a particularly social person, whereas he struggled to maintain eye contact with people he worked with. You were quite loud and carefree, whereas Yoongi preferred to stay reserved and within his own little bubble. You loved being active, roaming around, and planning various date ideas and vacations, whereas Yoongi simply loved to either watch a movie in a theatre or stay at home in the comfort of his bed. You both would occasionally argue and fight like cats and dogs, but that added to the beautiful essence of your relationship.
Great, Large, and Wide.
Three words that described the love you had for him. There was nothing quite like it, it was home. You were home. You cared for him like any mother would, you took care of his schedules and never failed to make him see how important he was, not just to you, but to everyone else around him. You fed him and smiled with him and made his burdens lighter. You loved him like he had never been loved before and there was nothing that could compare to the amount of love that you had for him. He wanted – no – he hoped, that just like the river that flowed down at its own leisurely pace but never once stopping, your love for him would still remain. That your love for him had somehow not run dry but was still patiently waiting for his return. Selfish, yes. But he couldn’t help but want that.
A word that has little numerical significance but has much more than a valuable meaning. Cutting to the chase, you were the one for him. You were the one he once loved and you were the one who he kicked. And still, you were the one he was writing about. You were the one who put him first and you were the one who deserved to be put first. You were the one he now wanted back and it made his lips tremble because it was just too hard to deal with the guilt of losing the one person who was perfect for him.
And yet, you were the one who made his heart rate quicken significantly, because all of a sudden Yoongi forgot how to breath and how to function and not fall to the floor in panic and just break down then and there.
You were the one he was looking at and nothing at that point in time made sense to him anymore.
You, the person he should have always put first, were within sight of his spot on the little bench that he was sitting on.
You were there.
And you weren’t alone.
Yoongi almost collapsed at the sight of you, his parched mouth drinking up the sight of you completely. You looked…different.
A good different.
With shorter hair that reached just below your shoulders, a little hairpin held up the sides of your fringe to the top of your head. He couldn’t make out what it was, maybe a sunflower clip, or something yellow. You looked radiant, eyes light and bright, crinkling at the corners when a gorgeous smile took over your face.
Breath-taking, he thought, literally, because he still hadn’t noticed that he was no longer actively breathing. You had a pretty dress on, white, the color that made you look like an angel, with cute frills around the front and the arms.
Arms that were linked with a man that looked all too familiar.
From a distance, Yoongi’s deprived ears picked up on the sound of your laugh, a sound that made him feel lightheaded, a sound that reminded him of rushing waters and open flower fields and everything that was good and kind. It tugged at his heart, painfully, noticing the way the man beside you had spoken something before he was blessed with the wonderful sound of your laughter.
Another man had made you laugh, Yoongi noted.
A man that he should have been, but failed to be.
A man that took his place and gave you the happiness that you deserved.
A man that put you first.
“I found it!”
Yoongi’s eyes widened, turning around abruptly and rushing to take the hard disk out of Minhyuk’s hand. A series of relieved sighs filled the room, Jungkook and Woozi rushing to physically look at the item all of them had been in search of for the past ten minutes.
“You should be careful,” Minhyuk nodded when Yoongi took the hard disk from him. “You almost lost something really important.”
Jin agreed from the corner. “Yoongi has so many songs on that.”
“You really need to keep track of your things.”
“I will.” Yoongi ran his hands over the black device, heart still racing at the thought of losing all of his hard work in one stretch.
“I’m glad we found it. It would’ve been terrible if someone else picked it up.”
“Yeah,” Kihyun nodded. “It’s one of us, so that’s a relief.”
“Where did you find it?” Yoongi asked.
“It was fallen behind the cushions on the couch. Must’ve slipped in there when you didn’t realize it.”
“In that case, you should give Minhyuk a song as a ‘thank you’ gift for finding it for you,” Kihyun suggested with a smirk. Everyone laughed at that, immediately bursting into shouts and arguments as to who deserves to get a song from Yoongi first.
In the meanwhile, Minhyuk felt the need to scold Yoongi some more.
“You would have never noticed it if it wasn’t for the need to look for it. You only knew how much it meant to you once you lost it.”
Yoongi blinked up in confusion. “Yeah, thank you.”
“You shouldn’t thank me. It’s a good thing I found it before someone else did. Who knows, they could’ve taken advantage of it.”
“Yeah…” he trailed off, feeling slightly intimidated under the intense look on Minhyuk’s face.
“Don’t be so careless next time, Yoongi-ssi. Not everyone will be willing to return something they’ve found, especially if it’s valuable.”
“Okay, I get you. Don’t make me feel worse.”
“I’m telling you so that you feel worse.”
Yoongi raised his eyebrows when the man turned to walk away, feeling deeply offended by the tone that he was just spoken to with. Looking back down at the hard disk in his hand, he zipped open his bag and slipped it into the deepest section with a promise to never mishandle something that was of great meaning to him.
“What is wrong with that dude?” Yoongi grumbled to himself, walking away with a shake of his head. “He looked like he could eat me up in a second.”
And so he did.
Because all at once, every single word that Minhyuk spoke that day made sense to him.
This time, he had really lost something valuable to him, to someone who was much more capable of cherishing it. And there was nothing much he could do about it. Every word that Minhyuk told him that day fit perfectly to the situation.
“You only knew how much it meant to you once you lost it.”
“It’s a good thing I found it before someone else did. Who knows, they could’ve taken advantage of it.”
“Not everyone will be willing to return something they’ve found, especially if it’s valuable.”
“I’m telling you so that you feel worse.”
Minhyuk, of all people, found you.
And by the looks of it, you needed it much more than Yoongi thought you did.
You looked like something you had experienced with Yoongi in your life, but somehow, it was even more than before.
Yoongi had once made you happy.
But Minhyuk made you happier.
You both passed by with joyous laughs and fingers intertwined, arms swinging happily as the two of you walked further and further away from the place Yoongi was sitting at.
Looking down at the notebook on his lap, Yoongi laughed pathetically at the smudge of ink which appeared when a tear that he didn’t even know had fallen, covering the first word of the last sentence that he had written. Maybe that was his fate.
Maybe it was his punishment that he had longed for.
Maybe it was the bitter taste of the medicine that life had finally pushed into his mouth.
Because now there was no way he could take part in the oath he had noted down on the paper. He could never fill in that space.
He could never get back what he had lost.
And maybe, just maybe, this was for the best.
Because even though it broke him to the point that Yoongi bent forward right there on the bench and cried like he never had before, maybe this was for the best. His love for you that had returned powerfully suddenly felt weak and powerless under the sad truth that just walked past him.
Maybe he had failed.
Maybe he deserved this.
Maybe he needed this.
Because there was no way the heavens weren’t clear enough with the sign that was now evident on the paper of his notebook.
“Make (Y/n) happier.”
Requested by: @persefoneniverse
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