Chapter Text
Min Yoongi avoided nouns.
People, places and things.
Granted, the places and things he avoided were very specific. The people, not so much. He just tried to avoid people in general.
Sadly though, the world was made up of nouns. So this task wasn’t an easy one.
Busses were great. Very convenient for inner city travel. Yoongi, like most, was well aware of this information. But busses were nouns. They were nouns with a lot of other nouns on them.
Such as people.
And windows.
Two things that Yoongi did not like being around at the same time. Or at all.
Music thumped away in his ears, the low hum of the busses engine becoming subtle white noise next to the sharp beats and breathy vocals of the song. He sat in an aisle seat, furthest from the windows, using the gentleman sleeping next to him to discretely hide himself. He kept his head down, kept his movements slow as not to draw attention. By now he’d practically mastered moving through the world like a ghost.
Today, though, was one of the few days a year that he would have to step back into the world of functioning society.
He bounced his leg anxiously, almost quick enough to risk waking the man next to him.
The bus ride to work felt too short that morning. Even with the constant thrum of nerves in his chest that made each moment feel impossibly long. The chill in his arms refused to alleviate, all his body heat soaking out of the leather jacket that was by no means suited for the colder weather.
The scarf his mother had gifted him on his birthday, while still warmly wrapped around him, had significantly less threads from all his anxious pulling and years of wear.
His boss had insisted (threatened) that he attend the meeting today to discuss the debut of one of the companies’ trainee groups. They needed to go over concept and design for the new artist as well as what kind of sound they would be debuting with. Which was his job, to produce the songs for the groups.
Yoongi really didn’t enjoy the meetings he was forced to attend. Especially the ones that worked directly with the artists. It was nothing against the artists themselves. The freedom given to the artists and the resulting synergy between the artists and company was a large part of why Yoongi had applied to work for Hybe.
It wasn’t the artists that bothered him. It was the nouns.
Yoongi got off the bus at his stop, pulling his scarf up over his mouth as he walked the short few blocks to the Hybe building. It would be a short meeting. They’d note down what the artist’s image was going to be, brainstorm a sound that would suit them and then he’d escape back to the comfort of his studio and finally (hopefully) work out the kinks to the track that he’d been pouring himself over for the last week.
Cheeks numb from the cold, Yoongi steered down an alley next to the building, eyes glued to the sidewalk beneath his feet. He didn’t need to look to know where along the wall of windows the side entrance sat. Fumbling to pull his keycard out of the collar of his jacket, strung from a lanyard around his neck, he leaned down and pressed it to the lock. He wasted no time in ducking through the door when the light flicked to green.
He kept his coat pulled tight around him as he made his way down the hall, turning into a stairwell just before reaching the main lobby.
The eleven flights had once been the bane of his existence. After starting here, Yoongi had more than a few times been ready to risk it all for the sake of actually being able to feel his legs by the time he reached his studio door. But after four years, the stairs were a small hurdle.
“Min Yoongi,” a voice spoke from next to him just as he opened the stairwell door on the eleventh floor and stepped out into the hall.
He sucked in a startled breath swallowing the curse that almost fell from his lips. He’d gotten scolded one too many times for his language in the workplace, he didn’t need another lecture. Whipping his head to the side, he found the source of the voice leaning casually against the wall next to the stairs.
The suit was the first thing to catch his eye, because it always did. Because it was easier to look at the suit then to meet the man’s beautiful, deep brown eyes. The way the expensive material hugged the man’s form was something Yoongi spent an inappropriate amount of time thinking about. When his eyes flickered down to the man’s legs, watching the firm muscles tense as they took his weight as he leaned away from the wall, Yoongi forced himself to bow quickly.
“Morning sir,” he mumbled, wincing at the rough sound of his own voice, hearing it for the first time that day.
“You didn’t forget our meeting today did you?”
Yoongi righted himself and huffed a strand of mint green hair out of his face while giving his boss a flat look, “You won’t let me forget it.”
Seokjin’s bright smile nearly had him dropping his grumpy façade but it was futile to keep up the act when a coffee cup was pressed into his palm. The heat brought tingles to his cold fingers, slowly warming them up as he tucked the cup under his chin, holding it with both hands.
“Just trying to make sure you don’t attempt to escape this one.”
“Can it be called an attempt if I succeeded?”
“Not even a thank you,” Seokjin scoffed, shaking his head, his perfectly styled hair brushing his forehead softly while Yoongi took a sip of the coffee. Was it really fair that the man was allowed to look so good so early? “I had to fight through the morning rush to get you that coffee.”
Yoongi sniffed, turning to head down the hall towards his studio, away from the window in the stairwell door. Seokjin fell in to place next to him easily and he tried not to think too much about how close their arms were to brushing together. His stupid little crush was going to cause trouble one of these days, he just knew it.
“I appreciate your bribery hyung.”
Seokjin tutted, “It’s an apology. I know how much you hate meetings.”
“And yet you still make me go.”
“Someone has too. You have to remind the other employees that you exist every now and then. The man behind the myth.”
There was amusement in his voice but Yoongi understood the truth behind that as well. The last time he’d run into someone while on his way back from a recording session, he’d had security called on him. The stares and frantic apologies he received when he finally found his ID in his bag were almost more embarrassing then the fact he’d nearly been kicked out of his own work place.
“Right, because the long list of song credits isn’t proof enough,” Yoongi grumbled into the lip of his coffee cup. People made up all kinds of rumors about him. What he didn’t hear from Seokjin, he would hear in the stairwell or the bathroom. The trainee’s especially loved to spread these rumors about the ‘Ghost Producer Suga’.
He’d be lying if he said he didn’t find it a little bit funny.
“It’ll be fine. You don’t even need to say anything. Just smile and nod,” Seokjin stood with a shoulder against the wall, facing him as he punched in the code for his studio. Yoongi glanced at him and raised a brow.
Seokjin chuckled, “Just nod then.”
Sighing, Yoongi pushed the door open, trusting Seokjin to wait while he organized his things and turned his equipment on. It was a well-known rule that no one came into his studio. A rule made and enforced by Seokjin himself after an incident with a trainee mistaking the studio for a higher end rentable space. Yoongi had lost it when he’d discovered that a nearly completed song file had been saved over.
It was safer if people just stayed away from his things.
Now Yoongi and Seokjin (for emergency reasons) were the only ones with the code to the room. Yoongi trusted Seokjin to never enter unless it was necessary (ie; dragging a starving, exhausted Yoongi back out into society for the sake of his health), or unless Yoongi gave him express permission.
He took off his coat and draped it over the back of his chair as he watched his computer screen light up out of the corner of his eye with the familiar desktop background of a cute cat playing with a ball of red yarn. It was about time he changed it. He had a picture of two kittens, one with its head resting on the others, that was queued up for its time in the limelight.
After stalling for as long as he thought he could get away with, Yoongi stepped back out in the hall, locking the door behind him. Standing next to Seokjin now that he no longer had his jacket and scarf to hide in made him feel severely underdressed. Seokjin’s suit was tailored to fit those sinfully wide shoulders while Yoongi’s black button up was bought online with the hope it would fit. His clothes weren’t cheap, he’d be the first to admit he wasn’t hurting for money, but he never really learned how to properly dress to impress.
He didn’t even own a nice suit. Yoongi was very careful about keeping his head down. He never made public appearances as Suga, therefore the public had never seen his face. It wasn’t like he could post pictures of himself anyway. Seokjin was very helpful in turning away curious reporters or sites looking for an interview.
The sleeves of his shirt were rolled to his elbows, his black skinny jeans held up with a simple belt with a silver buckle.
He did his best with what he felt most comfortable in.
Seokjin engaged in light conversation all the way to the meeting room a few floors down. Yoongi listened calmly, feeling at ease next to the older, which maybe was a little backwards considering he was the CEO of the company. But Seokjin was one of the few people that didn’t question Yoongi’s strange habits.
Seokjin knew he wasn’t a morning person, so he did most of the talking.
Instead of going to the elevators, he guided them back to the stairs, holding the door for Yoongi like the gentleman he was. And it was all Yoongi could do not to squeak out a ‘thank you’.
Seokjin’s small talk turned into complaining which then turned into whining about how much paperwork he had to get to after the meeting. It got to the point where the elder was practically hanging off his arm begging Yoongi not to make him go back to his office as if Yoongi had some kind of say in it, while Yoongi just tried his best not to spill his coffee (read; grin ear to ear).
If anyone else were to act half their age around him like this, he might find it ridiculous and annoying. Seokjin wasn’t anyone though. He somehow, inexplicably, made it cute.
Then again, no one would ever believe him if he tried to tell them the CEO of a very well-known up and coming company was currently pouting at him with puppy dog eyes.
The talking was enough to distract Yoongi from his nerves until they reached the conference room doors, outside of which, he took a brief but important second to switch into work mode. Suga was a professional. Suga held his chin up, shoulders back, walked with confidence and a ‘don’t fuck with me attitude’.
Seokjin squeezed his shoulder lightly and smiled, before fixing his suit jacket. Yoongi watched him fall into the persona of professional CEO Kim Seokjin.
In the room, six people stood to bow and greet them as they walked in.
One, Yoongi recognized as the Creative Director, To Mi-yeon. He’d spoken to her a number of times in meetings just like these and he liked her well enough. She was professional, and incredibly good at her job.
The other, a man he assumed to be a Marketing Director, he was less familiar. They might have crossed paths but Yoongi hadn’t seen him at these meeting’s before. At least not the ones he attended.
And of course, the soon-to-be artists. A group of four young boys.
Like all the other trainees, the kids had the same air of overzealous professionalism trying to stamp out nerves and excitement in front of people they rightfully considered big wigs in the industry. Given that the people in this room were working on deciding their groups future, the nerves were certainly warranted.
They were all stiff but doing their best to be casual about it. An artform Yoongi himself had mastered before he was out of high school.
A quick glance around the room had Yoongi determining the best seat to take, well away from the windows yet not at the head of the table under the most attention. Consequently, this seating placed him next to one of the trainees. The kid shifted in his seat slightly as if surprised Yoongi would sit next to him.
“Good morning everyone, I hope you’re all doing well,” Seokjin began cheerfully.
There was a chorus of polite responses.
Yoongi slumped back in his seat, cradling his coffee close to his chest as if someone might snatch it from him. Maybe if he curled tight enough he’d somehow magically teleport back to his studio.
He’d seen weirder things.
“I’m sure you already know Mi-yeon-ssi and Yong-ssi.”
A series of nods and smiles from the boys. Mi-yeon smiled back at them, Yong gave a friendly wave.
“It’s good to see you all again, congratulations on becoming the final line up.”
The boy sitting next to him somehow sat straighter in his chair, smile wide and excited.
Seokjin continued, “I’d like to introduce you to Suga-ssi. He will be your producer for your first song. You will work closely with him in the coming weeks.”
The nods of understanding were accompanied by stares in his direction and if they weren’t in an important meeting, Yoongi was sure they’d be whispering amongst themselves. He stretched his legs out underneath the table, still stiff from the tense bus ride.
The meeting was as per usual after that. The trainees had as much a say in things they liked and didn’t like as their debut concept as the rest of them did. Though they still retained the power to veto any changes that weren’t realistic or achievable. While they had some limitations, Yoongi knew that Seokjin would do everything in his power to make it work.
When he left the meeting, he had a new song concept to start working on and a lot of recording time scheduled on his calendar starting as early as the beginning of next week. Before all of that he needed to get the song he’d been beating his head off a wall over finished.
Four hours turned into more. Maybe six, maybe eight. Yoongi had lost track awhile ago, giving up checking his phone to avoid distractions.
And sure enough the song still wasn’t done. Still.
It was getting painful how much this song seemed to refuse to work with him. He’d even played with the idea of scrapping it and starting over fresh. Before he could do anything that rash, he decided it was time to go home.
The harsh light burned his eyes as he emerged from the dark studio.
Yoongi squinted, back stiff with a persistent kink in his neck that wouldn’t work itself out no matter how much he kneaded the spot with his palm. Looking down at his black hoodie (a spare he kept in the studio, he always got cold easily) he triple checked to make sure he didn’t look completely disheveled. He then tried to tidy his hair, which he’d nearly pulled out of his head while analyzing the song he’d been working on.
A week until the company’s deadline. One part. Right before the bridge. Despite all his attempts and tweaking, it still didn’t sound right. If he had it his way, he wouldn’t leave the studio until it was perfect, but Seokjin had already stopped by and threatened to change his passcode in the morning if he didn’t go home.
He’d never admit out loud how terrifying the CEO could be. Always with the best intentions but Yoongi would count himself lucky if the only thing he did was change the passcode. Despite knowing he’d have to make the awful trek through busy halls to get to his office to bribe the new code out of him. He’d done it before. It sucked.
Sticking his earbuds in his ears and shuffling his playlist, Yoongi let the music drown out the tune of his own song, interrupting the constant repeat of the familiar notes that echoed constantly in his mind. Sighing at the moment of reprieve, he tucked his phone in his pocket and made his way down the hall. He briefly wondered what time it was but didn’t bother to check. It wouldn’t change his mission of getting back to his apartment, taking a much-needed shower and eating a hot meal. Jungkook was likely starting to question if he was still alive.
The company building’s halls were empty, not a single person around, making him think it might be later than he’d intended on staying.
As he came to the door leading to the stairwell, he hesitated, glancing further down the hall to where the elevators were. The stairs were his go too, but the thought of traversing the four flights made his stomach turn uncomfortably.
It was a pretty frequent occurrence that he lost track of time in the studio. Even Seokjin was guilty of that, getting lost amongst paperwork and phone calls. They kept an eye on each other. It was easier to remember to eat or sleep when someone else was there to pull you away from your zone. He probably didn’t want to know how long he’d stayed there this time.
Home, shower and food. That’s all he needed to focus on. With that thought repeating through his mind, he turned away from the stairs and headed down the hall to the elevator. His slightly numb and shaky legs would thank him later surely.
Getting in the elevator, he kept his gaze to the floor, throwing his hood up over his head to block his peripheral vision.
On his way to the ground floor, the elevator stopped to allow someone on, the doors sliding open but not registering in his dragging mind. Yoongi stifled a yawn, focused more on the music in his ears and trying to type out a message to Jungkook in reply to a slew of texts he’d gotten three hours ago. His clock read two in the morning. Definitely stayed too long.
Jungkook had a bad habit of missing dinner when he wasn’t around to cook. He called it motivation for Yoongi not to stay out so late, but he knew it was because he got caught up in gaming with his friends online.
The song playing had a lot of synthesizers laced amongst the chorus notes. It was an interesting touch that added an electric element without being overpowering. Should he try using some for his song? He usually tried to avoid excessive synthesizers, but it could be worth a shot. At the very least it could spark further inspiration.
A sharp movement next to him caught his attention, drawing his eyes away from the half-composed text assuring Jungkook he hadn’t become one with his desk. Next to him in the confines of the elevator was a girl, a binder hugged to her chest, dressed in what looked to be workout clothes, dark hair done up in a twist.
It wasn’t hard to guess that the girl was a trainee, possibly on her way back from getting in some extra dance practice. It wasn’t rare for trainees to stay late too.
Her overall casual appearance only made the look of sheer terror on her face that much more contrasting. The way her back pressed against the wall of the elevator so tightly it must have been painful. The constant flickering of her eyes from Yoongi to the space behind him.
Oh.
Oh shit.
He hadn’t even-
He hadn’t been thinking.
Yoongi yanked the headphones out of his ears quickly, an explanation, or maybe an apology or just any words to reassure the girl weighed on his tongue, tensed his shoulders, made him react without thinking. He took a step towards her, only to flinch back at her shrill scream filling the small space.
The ding of the elevator reaching its destination was lost on him, as the hard side of the woman’s binder caught his cheek harshly before he had time to lift his arms to block it. Yoongi’s phone clattered to the ground with the book, abandoned as the girl ran panicked from the elevator before the doors had even fully opened. Her shoulder clipped the door, causing her to stumble, but she didn’t stop.
Yoongi slumped against the wall, dazed, hands gripping the bar behind him. Pain flared over his cheekbone, making his eyes water and skin tingle uncomfortably.
The silence in the space was almost louder than the woman’s fear. The attempts to breathe evenly and restore his heart to its usual pace was rather futile, even as he crouched on weak legs to pick up his phone and the book.
It hurt. But he couldn’t stay there. He should have taken the stairs. He knew that he should always stay away from the elevators. Yet, his hazy, tired mind had conveniently forgotten why he did such things. No elevators. He should know this.
It took him longer to get home then he’d planned after that. With his hood pulled even lower over his face, he’d hurried to the main desk and dropped the book off for the girl to come and collect later. That led to a very startled receptionist pointing out that he was bleeding, which led to trying to mumble out an excuse of tripping before rushing out to avoid getting medical attention.
And he’d missed the last bus by a long shot.
By the time he’d slumped into his apartment, he was just about ready to collapse on his feet. The cool air had helped ease the ache on his cheek but the sting from what must be a small cut and the throb from no doubt a bruise still flared up when he so much as twitched his expression.
He had tried to wipe the little bit of blood off his cheek, but he likely just smeared it.
“Hyung!” Jungkook’s voice sounded from the kitchen, giving Yoongi the willpower to push his back off the closed door and kick off his shoes. “I’m making some ramen, come eat before you fall down.”
Yoongi sometimes wondered what it was he’d done to be rewarded with the angel that was his roommate.
Jungkook took one look at him when he walked into the kitchen, and his expression dropped. The younger had his gaming headphones sitting around his neck, the chord jammed into his pocket because he was often too lazy to pull the headphones off entirely but not too lazy to unplug them when he wanted a snack.
The purple hair was still sometimes startling to see, but Jungkook had done it as a promise to his subscribers when he reached a hundred thousand. Yoongi had been suckered into dying his hair with him, and ended up with a teal that looked more like mint.
Jungkook’s fingers pressed into his cheek, strikingly warm compared to his cold skin, turning his head to the side to see the bruise better in the light.
“It’s nothing bad Kook-ah.”
The gamer glared at him, but Yoongi didn’t think he could be intimidated by Jungkook when he knew the guy wore boxers with spaceships on them. Not to say he could best him in a fight. Jungkook spent a ridiculous amount of time at the gym, on top of gaming and school, Yoongi had no idea how he managed to maintain such toned abs.
Especially since he’d seen what the guy eats.
Not to mention the height difference he had on him. (Yoongi would never admit out loud, but it made for really really good hugs.)
“What happened.”
And so, Yoongi found himself relating the events of the day to Jungkook as the younger dragged him over to the couch and grabbed the first aid kit.
From an outside perspective, it probably seemed strange for a very well-known producer to be housing a college student in his way too expensive apartment and that would be completely accurate. If someone were to ask him how this arrangement had happened, Yoongi didn’t know if he’d have an answer for them.
Jungkook was just kind of… there one day.
And then he was weaseling his way into Yoongi’s heart and shortly after into his home.
“Ow, Kook-ah, careful.”
“Careful? You want to talk about careful?” Jungkook pulled his hand away from his cheek, brows raised incredulously. Yoongi sighed at the brief moment of relief from the sting of antiseptic.
“Don’t start, it was an accident.”
Jungkook scoffed, dabbing at the cut below his eye with a little more force then necessary, completely ignoring Yoongi’s wince of pain and making the black eye he was sporting throb uncomfortably, “People don’t throw books accidentally hyung.”
“I meant it was my accident,” he grumbled.
They’d had this talk over a dozen times and it always ended with Jungkook ranting. On any other day, Yoongi might have had the patience, but at the moment he was exhausted, his head hurt, and he was hungry.
“Did you eat dinner?” He asked, hoping Jungkook would drop it.
Wishful thinking of course.
“Did you tell the company? If she aimed any higher you could have gone blind. Did she even apologize?”
“She ran before I could explain,” Yoongi flinched his head away quickly, closing his bruised eye. “Ow, brat I told you-”
“Be careful. Right, like you were careful when you walked into that elevator without checking it first.”
The flat look Jungkook gave him might have been amusing if his face wasn’t throbbing.
“Rookie mistake.”
Jungkook pressed a bandage over the shallow cut and packed up the first aid kit as he stood from the couch, giving him a pointed look. Yoongi reached to the coffee table next to them and grabbed the bag of frozen peas he’d gotten from the freezer.
Groaning, he pressed the peas to his eye. The cold soaked into his skin, harsh and biting at first but settling to a pleasant numbing that sank right into his skull. More soothing than the sharp cold air outside. Stretching out across the couch on his back, Yoongi didn’t dare let his eyes close just yet knowing that he’d only see a constant replay of the fear on the woman’s face before he’d been attacked with the binder.
“Not everyone takes it as well as you did. You’re weird like that,” Yoongi stated flatly.
His roommate grumbled something from the kitchen that Yoongi was sure had to do with how stupid people were. It didn’t matter. Maybe he didn’t care much because he had no way of seeing the damage on his face, or because he had dealt with these reactions often enough to just take them in stride and move on.
It was when things were quiet or he was alone, that the words thrown at him, the fear directed towards him, all caught up.
“How bad is it really?” He found himself asking, if only to curb his curiosity. It certainly didn’t feel good, but injuries sometimes had a way of being overdramatic. Papercuts really shouldn’t be as painful as they were.
“You should probably wear sunglasses tomorrow. I can help you cover it up if you want. Or you can just go in looking like you got in a fight. I’m sure people will run that rumor around fast enough,” the amusement in his tone wasn’t lost on Yoongi.
He scoffed, “I don’t know where people get the idea that I’m some kind of delinquent.”
Jungkook had once told him it was because people respected him and that he carried an air of ‘don’t fuck with me’ around him. Yoongi took that as being off putting. If he knew what his smile looked like, he might offer other people one in return, but for all he knew that was even more off putting.
“Your hair is green hyung.”
Yoongi pushed himself onto his elbows to look over the back of the couch, “You said it was mint! And you’re the one who told me it would look good.”
Jungkook rolled his eyes, moving about the small kitchen to get a drink and check on the ramen, “Close enough. And it does look good, that’s part of the problem.”
“Why I ever trust your opinion will always be a mystery to me.”
It wasn’t long before Jungkook was dropping a bowl of ramen on the table next to him and knocking his feet to the side so he could sit down. Sitting up, he dropped the peas next to him.
“Who was she?” Jungkook watched him eat, fist pressed into his cheek, elbow on the arm of the couch.
Yoongi glanced at him, “A trainee I think.”
Jungkook pushed a rush of air out his nose. It was that sigh he did when he understood, but didn’t like something. Like he wanted to do something but knew he couldn’t. In this case, Yoongi knew that his roommate understood why he couldn’t tell anyone what happened. The girl had reacted because she was scared, she didn’t deserve to get in trouble or have her future ruined because of that.
“How’s V?”
The immediate flush of Jungkook’s cheeks was extremely satisfying. Yoongi grinned around his food.
“We had a tournament today, you should have seen him hyung, I barely needed to do anything but cover. He’s like a one-man army.”
It was bittersweet, he thought as he ate and listened to Jungkook talk about the infamous V’s newest escapades in game. There was once a time when Yoongi had entertained the idea that Jungkook might, possibly, maybe have been into him at one point. But it wasn’t long after this thought that V came into the picture. The two had met online and by what Jungkook had told him, he went to the same school as him, but V had yet to do a face reveal so even if he had met him, he wouldn’t know.
Seeing Jungkook talk so happily about the guy made Yoongi happy too. V seemed to pull out more than a few of Jungkook’s bunny smiles by just being brought up in conversation. Yoongi was pretty sure he couldn’t offer that kind of joy to Jungkook. So as sad as Yoongi was for missing his chance, and as much as it hurt sometimes to know that he’d never be able to tell him how much he cared about him, it was nothing compared to how happy it made him to see Jungkook happy.
It wasn’t jealously that he felt towards V. He was actually really grateful that Jungkook had someone in his life that made him smile so much. So long as Yoongi didn’t lose Jungkook entirely, because selfishly, he knew he needed Jungkook more than the other needed him.
That was a can of emotions that his mind or heart couldn’t take opening tonight.
“You have classes tomorrow?” Yoongi asked, getting up to put his bowl in the sink.
“Only in the afternoon. I was just finishing up some editing for tomorrow’s video then I’m going to sleep.”
“Mm. I’m going into the studio in the afternoon, but I’ll be back earlier. Bulgogi for dinner?”
The way Jungkook perked up at the mention of Yoongi cooking made something warm and pleasant stir inside him. He stamped it down just as quick. His emotions weren’t Jungkook’s responsibility.
He checked the fridge to make sure they had the right ingredients, noting that they would need to go get groceries soon.
“Hyung?”
Yoongi closed the fridge door and turned to look at the younger. He had his chin perched on the back of the couch, eyes intense in the way that felt as if he saw right through him. The guy had a knack for that.
“I see you.”
Biting his tongue hard, Yoongi looked away, busying himself with finding a glass for water. Anything to keep Jungkook from seeing how embarrassingly quick the words had brought tears to his eyes. He must be more exhausted than he’d thought. Not trusting his voice, he hummed in response.
They didn’t say much after that, Jungkook bidding him goodnight and disappearing back into his room, Yoongi drifting into the bathroom to take a quick shower.
The words sat heavy in his mind, keeping his feet on the ground and his heartbeat steady. It was these moments that he knew he’d be a mess without him. That he felt guilty for the reliance he had, not only on him, but Seokjin as well. Jungkook knew everything. Knew why he was the way he was. Seokjin had never asked and Yoongi had never wanted to tell him. He was just the kind of person who hated seeing others uncomfortable.
But the lengths they both went for him sometimes felt too much. Undeserved.
All because of something so stupid. Something that really shouldn’t affect his life the way it did, but it felt like it changed everything. He should be used to it by now. Of the self-consciousness, or the fear of situations like the one in the elevator. What would it be like to never have to think about it like other people? What did it feel like not to avoid reflective surfaces or to be able to style their own hair or see what they looked like growing up, how they changed?
Yoongi turned towards the mirror in the bathroom, feeling the heat of the few tears that escaped down his cheeks but he couldn’t see them. He’d never seen them. What did he looked like when he was crying?
Sucking in a breath to steady himself, he replayed Jungkook’s words. He could see him. So long as he could, everything was alright.
With heavy limbs and a heavier heart, Yoongi stepped away from the mirror that showed nothing but the bathroom behind him, and climbed in the shower.
Yoongi’s reflection, like it was every time he checked, wasn’t there.