𝑷𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒅 / OT7 x Reader

- LVI -

Third person POV

J-Hope is trying so hard to teach everyone the dance Y/N and him created. It was authorized by the official choreographer and now both authors, Hoseok and Y/N, are fighting hard for their bandmates to learn the dance.

"Jin! One more time... It's left-left-down! Not left-down-left!"
Of course Jung Hoseok is about to lose his mind over the three oldest.
"Again from the start"

Almost six hours locked in the practice room and they barely know the first half of the song, and it does not look as planned.

Everyone rest in the floor when the song starts. Yoongi sits in his place and lipsings his rap. Then Hoseok's turn to be lifted by Taehyung's back, but when the fast part starts, the order of the dance get lost.

They needed to turn left to the next place but half of them turn right and crush between them, making Jin and Suga bump into each other, hurting Suga's injured shoulder.

Yoongi is not having a good day at all. He lost a song he forgot to save before going to sleep. Got to know later that his brother won't be visiting him and the damn dance is getting harder and harder. He needs some fresh air.

"Okay, I'm done with this shit" Like that, Yoongi takes his black jacket and exits the room, leaving seven heads dumbfounded.

"So... practice is over?" Namjoon asks after watching his hyung leave.
"Not for us, let him have some time"

J-Hope learned not to push Yoongi off his limits, Yoongi by himself would come back eventually with more disposition to learn something.

So the dance continues the next five hours, letting everyone of them close to passing out.

However, the story was different in the Bangtan's dorm.

After leaving the practice, Yoongi got a new horrible headache and the two painkillers he had earlier weren't helping.

He thought some beer would help him so he got three cans of it and also a bottle of cheap whisky, maybe it'd help as well.

Getting drunk by yourself at home is one of the best feelings, not of the best ideas.

His sadness didn't grow after one rainy day, nor after two weeks of eating once every two days, nor after the past hard months working in an album that didn't get the success he expected.
It was everything, it was everyone and no one but him at the same time. Everything drove him crazy and now he's trying to stay in his right mind at least for today.

He sits in his shared bedroom drinking one single can of beer, at 2 p.m.
But that headache reminds there so he takes two more painkillers with one more can.
6 p.m. and beer is over, but there's whiskey and also four more pills to stop the physical pain and the painful feelings as well.
It was 8 p.m. when the headache stopped, but the thirst remained in his throat, so the whiskey disappeared in less than 30 minutes, then when painful memories started to play in his mind he got the perfectly wrong idea of mixing the tequila he found in some place of the blurry kitchen to his eyes plus the reminding pills in his hands.

By 10 p.m. he wasn't feeling sad... nor good... he actually didn't feel a single thing.

Legs so numb he could just rest there, miserably on the bedroom floor; the cold of it reminding him he's a bit alive.

Arms barely moving just to bring the bottle to his almost white lips.

The lights weren't on, his consciousness was too sleepy and his vision too blurry to realize about time or his own state.