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sugagimmesugar · 5 years

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Cause I can‘t take the weight of your love

Inspired by the whole album „Divinely uninspired to a hellish Exntent“ by Lewis Capaldi, here is some YongiXReader Angst. I had loads of fun writing this so I hope you like it.

Slowly, so slowly, he turned around and started making his way down the street, towards his car, away from you. Somehow, his head is both empty and running in overdrive at the same time.

When did it all go so wrong? You had been inseparable since the day you met.

First, it had only been a simple flirtation online, the two of you bonding over books and movies, over your love of cooking and music. His celebrity status only a footnote. Facetime and texting the foundation of your friendship for almost a year. Sending each other songs and pictures all day long, even the time difference no issue as you managed to talk on the phone occasionally, before bed or on breaks. You had received so many silly selfies of the man who, by his fans was perceived as stoic, grumpy even. His gummy smile brightening your days. You had sent just as many pictures back, supportive texts layered over them when you knew the strain of producing, of dancing or simply of existing as a celebrity was getting overwhelming for the rapper plagued by anxiety.

Then, you had finally managed to meet up, the oceans between you worth crossing for what had been developing between the two of you. It had only been two days before it was obvious to you that yes, this was a relationship. And it was worth trying, worth the loneliness and the travel. Cause you felt at home when you were together, no matter where in the world, it was home in each other’s arms. For two weeks, you spent every second of the day cuddled up somewhere watching tv, listening to music or just enjoying each other’s closeness. Laughter and smiles were the main aspect of every day. And then the last few days came, both of you noticing you would have to go back to having only pictures, only phone calls and messages to keep you company. And the kisses turned from giggling and careless to longing, painful and on your last night almost drowning in tears. Both of you heartbroken at the prospect of letting go, even for a second.

That first goodbye was the worst, he couldn’t even bring you to the airport, too afraid of being recognized and having this relationship, something that belonged only to the two of you, blown up on social media by his fans. So he said goodbye at home, you almost missed your flight from the many “just one more hug” “just one more kiss”. The travel home was apathetic, punctuated by several texts of “miss u already” sent back and forth. You tried your best not to cry on the plane, but seeing his home country get smaller and smaller, the distance between you two get farther and farther, it hurt like hell. So you put on your sunglasses, turned up your music, and tried to sob as quietly as possible into your hand while you stared out the window, trying to avoid any contact with the other passengers.

When you got home, everything looked dull, the world so much less colourful without his warmth next to you, his smile and his laughter so far away from you. If it would’ve been possible, you would’ve turned around and flown back to him right then.

School never seemed more of a hassle than when it kept you from him. You were only two years younger than him, but his life was so much more that of a grownup than yours. You only had one and a half years left at school, the diploma so close, so you chose to stay, working instead for a future of traveling with your man, with your job and a life full of what you love.

School and work every day were tedious, the strain on both of you from the distance now increased since you knew how good it felt to just be together. But you got through it.

One and a half years of seeing each other every few months, traveling back and forth between your school and wherever in the world Yoongi was at the moment. You two got through it. When you had your exams and could barely think straight because you were panicking so much, he showed up at your apartment without warning but with your favourite korean snacks. He was there for you, even if he could only stay for a few days that time. And it meant the world.

When they won awards you were there, at your TV, at your laptop, anywhere, cheering him on, watching the boys that had become your family over the years take over the world with their music. When you saw him cry on stage, your heart broke for not being there with him, so you sent him a long text, excited and proud of their achievements, of the work he put in every day and night. And when the award shows were over, you were the second in line to get a call from him, only his parents before you. So you made it through. Made it through the boring days, the lonely nights and the constant goodbyes after having a few days or weeks together. You made it through.

And then, two years after you first met, when you had your diploma in your hand, your key to the world, you moved to him. You had planned to travel after school anyways, so it wasn’t a sacrifice. It was a new beginning. And you two were so happy. You managed to get a job in town very quickly, even though your language skills were still lacking. You loved the work and you loved it even more that you could come home to him.

After almost a year of living together he proposed. It was a normal night, they had just gotten back home from their last tour, the months without him hurting in an all too familiar way. You had been waiting for him at home, cooking his favourite meal, wearing one of the dresses he had bought you and singing along dramatically to some of your favourite songs as he came in. He looked so tired as you wrapped him in your arms, covering his face in kisses as a drowzy smile slowly spread across his features.

His arms holding you tight, he mumbled into your neck: “This is it, isn’t it? This is what I want for the rest of my life.” As he pulled away, a big smile now on his face, he got down on one knee, holding out empty hands. “I don’t have a ring, and you know I lost my heart to you long ago, but will you marry me anyways? Cause it’s always you. No matter how tired I am, how depressed, how stressed. I just want you. Your hugs, your smile, your laughter, that’s what keeps me going when I am too tired to do anything. When touring gets hard and I feel alone in the world, when even the guys can’t help me, you always can. You make me better when I didn’t realize I could recover. I love you with everything I have, with everything I am. If you can take this mess, this overworked idiot who spends most of his time on planes or in the studio, if you can be happy next to me, please. Marry me.”

His speech had had you in tears, falling to the floor in front of him, kissing him with so much love in your heart that it felt like you were choking. Nodding furiously as you couldn’t get out the words, you just hugged him tightly, and so you sat on the floor, both of you crying happy tears.

After that, everything had become so much messier. With the engagement came the expectation of a wedding. And planning a wedding while you’re working and your fiance spends half the year traveling around the world, that’s impossible. So it dragged on. After you had been together for 4 years, you had decided, together with the rest of the group and the managers, that it was time to make it public. This was obviously not gonna go away, and it was better that the fans found out from him than if they found out through rumours and speculations.

An official statement announcing the engagement, a small public appearance together, and then it was done. Millions of fans, who had loved him for years, had supported the band when you didn’t even know who they were, now they knew about you and him. Some of them were welcoming. They loved you for how happy you made him. Loved you for what he said you meant to him. Loved you, quite simply, because he did. But there were others, the ones who had thought they had a claim on the men they idolized, who thought they had a chance at standing by their side the way you did. And they exploded, they started harassing you at work, forcing you to quit your job only a month after the announcement. They spewed hate about you to his face at fansigns, throwing all kinds of allegations about you around online. You tried to ignore it, but it didn’t always work. The wall that the company built around you wasn’t enough, it still got to you. You weren’t used to having to deal with internet trolls the way the guys had been doing for years.

You started going out less, least of all with him. You took a job at the company, becoming one of the staff members to have something to keep you busy. He promised you it would get better, that they would leave it when they saw his disapproval of it, the band’s disapproval and the bans set by the company. But it didn’t. And so the months dragged on, hatred and the insane amounts of attention on you weighing you down more and more.

The arguments had become too much between the two of you. There had been less and less laughter, less smiles, between you two. And then one night, at some gala you had decided to attend with him, trying to have a fun night out and support him and the other members, someone took a blurry picture of you talking to another idol. Because of the volume of the event, your heads had been close together, just to hear each other speak, your hands covering your mouths so that you could talk somewhat privately, his hand on your shoulder to steady himself as he leaned in. But blurry that looked so much more intimate.

It was another explosion, now they were saying that not only were you never worthy of his love, now you were dragging it through the dirt, cheating on him right in front of the public eye.

And he had never been confident. In his music, maybe, but not in himself. He had never felt like he deserved your love, no matter how many times you told him. So it had festered in him. He knew you wouldn’t cheat on him. But how sure was he that you would be happy by his side, waiting for him to come home from tour, from award shows, when you could instead be with someone normal, someone who didn’t have insane fans claiming him and constantly dragging you.

His anxiety had always told him nothing he did was good enough, but now, he was looking at it sober, trying to take his own insecurities out of it. And it didn’t matter anymore if he was good enough for you. It mattered if you were happy with the life, and he could see that you weren’t. It had only been a year of your relationship being public, but you had lost your job, you had lost weight, had lost a spark in you because you couldn’t do anything without being swarmed by fans, or by the people who hated you for being loved by him.

So he had brought it up. “Are you happy with me? Are you happy with this life?” And confirming all his fears, you had broken down crying, a sobbing mess on the floor. Assuring your love for him and your will to make it through this, while also making it more obvious than ever how much you were hurting. You had never expected this. This amount of fame around him, and the kind of attachment his fans have to him.

“Are you happy with me? Are you happy with this life?” How could you be? You didn’t have a life other than trying to exist in the shadows of his. Anytime you dared take a spot next to him, the attacks came from all sides. You had never been good with attention, and this was so much worse than just attention. It was either complete adoration or seething hatred. It was too much.

So you told him.

And he fell silent.

What was he supposed to say? There’s nothing anyone can do. He and his brothers had been pleading with fans in interviews to leave you alone. They had tried everything, even getting some especially vocal “fans” banned from any BTS related events. To little effect. They kept trying but it didn’t seem to change anything.

The breakup was quiet, almost clinical. It was better for both of you. You were hurting too much from all the hate, he couldn’t watch you suffer, he didn’t think he was worth it anyways, so you broke up. “Keep the ring” he said. “Keep the apartment”, he said. “I’ll get my stuff”, he said. “We can try to be friends” , both of you had said.

And now here you were, watching the love of your life walk away with slow steps. And all you could feel was empty. Emptiness with the most unbearable kind of pain in your heart.

You watched him walk to his car. Watched him put all his stuff away and get into the car, not turning back once. Then he drove away. And you closed the door and collapsed.

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sugagimmesugar · 5 years

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Forever

Part 3 of the Yoongi X Reader Angst. Inspired by Lewis Capaldi’s song “Forever”

“Darling, nobody said that it would last forever

That doesn’t mean we didn’t try to get there”

That text, you shouldn’t have sent it. Telling your ex that you love them? That’s the dumbest thing you can do, period. But you couldn’t help yourself after how broken Yoongi had looked on TV. It was obvious that the stylists had tried their best, but as soon as he had taken off his sunglasses…. Your heart just stopped. His eyes sunken deep into his skull, the broken heart and exhaustion practically spelled out in his eyes. The dark circles under his eyes were worse than you had ever seen them. He looked more dead than alive. He had lost weight too, the already thin man now even thinner.

You shouldn’t have sent that text, but you had been too worried about the man you love to stop yourself. And god, you had missed him so much. Everyday. No matter what you did, he had always been there in the back of your head.

In the almost three months since the breakup, the media attention to your person had dwindled down quite quickly. You had actually been left in peace after only two weeks of constant demands for a statement. And those stopped after you tweeted in response to the official statement sent out by Yoongi.

Your few friends in this foreign country, they had been by your side, trying to understand why the two of you had ended it. Why You had ended it. But how could they? Not a lot of people can relate to your situation, so you had asked them to stop trying. And they did. Instead you chose to simply ignore what had happened, everything between you and Yoongi now a thing of the past anyways. You hadn’t moved on, obviously. But you had tried to somewhat silence your feelings, seeming they would never lead anywhere, only keep you from finding happiness with a normal person.

There was more than enough self-help literature out there, on how to get over a breakup quickly, and you had tried, but somehow you always ended up alone, crying and listening to sad love songs, all while eating whatever quick, unhealthy indulgence you had whipped up that day. Often with a bottle of wine as your company of choice.

It wasn’t healthy, but it wasn’t supposed to be.

You had to go back to work, of course. Your old job taking you back with open arms, you couldn’t believe your luck. For eight hours a day, you were no longer “BTS Suga’s Ex-Girlfriend”, you were just a cook. You weren’t famous, just doing your job. And it helped so much. The routine, the work you love, it helped you turn off your brain, your broken heart quiet for a while.

Unfortunately, every night when you got home from work, the pain was that much stronger, as if your brain finally opened the floodgates on eight hours of grief and heartbreak.

Crying yourself to sleep is just something you do at this point, it doesn’t surprise you. Drinking every night has become a routine as well.

The only thing that got through to you in your slump of casual harmful coping mechanisms was him. When you saw him on TV earlier… it had been a heartbreak worse than when he had walked out. Seeing him suffer… Seeing him explode like that on TV, Fuck. He must be doing bad. You had seen it on every one of the member’s faces, too. They had kept up the usual interview mask, but when he started to get loud in his answer, they all just looked so painfully concerned. Seeing that even the men who had to have been by his side daily were this concerned, it unraveled something in you. The love you had tried to shut away, to ignore, to drown out with alcohol, food and tears. It was back at the forefront of your emotions.

So you had texted him, and regretted it as soon as you hit “send”. How would this help anyone?

The fact that the “delivered” changed to “read” within seconds only made you more anxious.

And then he didn’t answer. Why didn’t he answer?

*Yoongi*

He had hoped for a positive reaction, but never would he have expected this.

#wearesorryyoongi and #wearesorryy/n

It was trending worldwide.

All of ARMY was just pouring out their love, their regret, their apologies. Many of the most vocal opponents of his relationship, their accounts had disappeared. Just deleted. The few that were left were mostly quiet.

It felt unreal.

His timeline on every social network was flooded with love. Everybody was supporting him now. Many were commenting on how bad he looked, how hurt. It had made them realise. Realise that no matter how much they loved him, they could not fill the space in his life that was meant for a partner. So they had backed off.

He felt like he was living in a fairytale.

Many idols had already started posting in support as well, now suddenly also openly condemning how he and y/n had been treated by the media and fans alike. How the whole industry was treating idols, their love lives, their private lives.

Somehow he hoped that his heartbreak would pave the way for actual change in the industry. Celebrities all over the world were hounded when they dated anyone, but with Idols, it often got out of hand since the closeness between them and their fans meant that the fans felt more connected to their Idols, felt they knew them so well, had some kind of claim on them, even.

His eyes were wide with shock, lined with tears, both of joy and sadness as he realised that this might be too late. Too late for him and his love. But he still kept scrolling through everything online, the love from the fans making his heart a little lighter. Around him, the other members were smiling brightly, proud both of Yoongi’s impact and their fans.

Jungkook was almost jumping up and down with excitement: “Hyung! Look! Everybody is tweeting at her, telling her they’re sorry. They listened.” The younger man’s big eyes shining brightly at the rapper, Yoongi smiles. It’s hesitant, but nonetheless, a smile.

While the public reaction was mostly apologies, his friends’ texts were of a different nature. It was a wave of “Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help?”.

He hadn’t cared how bad he looked, how little he ate, how little he slept. But now he was out of the house again, had been on TV as well. So now everybody who just thought he had taken some time for himself, they had all seen how bad he was doing.

As he responds to the texts, trying to come up with something to make people less concerned, he suddenly feels a hand on his shoulder. It’s Jin, a soft smile on his face as he looks down on his friend. “Let’s eat. I ordered extra everything, you look like you can use it.”

The care, the love surrounding him, online but most importantly right here, it breaks his heart to see how concerned everybody is. He tries to smile, but feels the tears streaming down his face silently, as the relief and the pain wash over him, yet again.

Immediately, they’re all right there, their hugs too tight, their faces full of love, of support and what looks like fear.

It’s Hobi who decides to break the silence, break off the group-hug to air out his anger.

“Why didn’t you call me? Call anyone? Why do you always try to suffer alone? We are right here! Always! It’s been almost three months but you look like you’re dead. We are your family, why didn’t you call us? Why did it take a TV-appearance for us to get to see you? You changed the code to the apartment, you didn’t respond to my texts, to any of our texts, and you were doing this badly?”

The anger, the pain on his face is written in plain sight. Looking around, the same pain is in everyone’s eyes, the anger less apparent than in his best friend’s words. But the question doesn’t just come from Hoseok, it comes from all of them.

And Yoongi doesn’t have an answer. He didn’t call them because he didn’t want to. Somewhere deep in his heart, he didn’t want to get through this. If it didn’t end with him and his love being okay again, he didn’t want it.

But that won’t help his friends to feel better. So he just says “I’m sorry.” over and over again. To each one of them. Because he saw how bad he looks. Because he knows how much they love him. And he is sorry. Sorry for making his friends scared from looking at him.

So he eats everything, even if it almost makes him sick. He smiles and laughs with them, letting whoever is closest to him hold on to him as if they’re checking for a pulse. And after a while of all of them together, the smiles aren’t forced anymore. They are real. And he can feel himself healing. It’s a long way to go, but he is moving forward.

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