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( Yoongi ).
NOVEMBER 10 5:59 am.
THERE WAS AN air of hostility between Min Yoongi and the other residents of the penthouse — or so he felt.
Kim Seokjin was oddly nice, Kim Namjoon was like a shadow that trailed behind the aforementioned man, and Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin were both people he'd prefer to stay away from.
Yoo Sujin, Yoongi didn't dare even look at. Every time his eyes caught against those pools of ebony, his heart gave a strangled lurch and the image of a woman lying bent against the dirty Daegu streets sent a wave of nausea through his body.
Other than his obvious hesitance to approach the dark-haired woman, Min Yoongi was living comfortably thanks to the hospitality of Kim Seokjin, whose smile never really seemed to reach his eyes.
It was early morning when Yoongi awoke from a long and dreamless sleep. He figured his sleep would be plagued by images of a bent and lifeless body on the floor of a building, eyes glassed over and jaw bent at an odd angle, blood seeping through light clothes — But nothing of the sort occurred.
He was thankful because those images already haunted his mind when he was awake; Yoongi didn't need for them to crawl into his nightmares as well.
Rubbing his eyes, sore from the harsh rooftop winds and the brittle cold, and perhaps the few stray tears that escaped out of fear and guilt, Yoongi exited his room as quietly as he could.
It was too early in the morning — An odd time for someone like Yoongi, who loved sleep ( Or perhaps it was the escape of the hospital beds and the disappearance into his own mind that he truly loved ) more than staying awake — But he had no intention of going back to sleep anymore.
He figured he'd had enough sleep for one night. The man's slippers soundlessly stepped on the smooth wood floor as he walked around.
Yoongi hadn't had any time earlier to take a good look at the place, too disoriented and sore and in shock to process anything other than the fact that he wasn't in Daegu anymore, besides the room Seokjin had said would belong to him from now on.
The penthouse was equipped with a balcony, and beyond that, a beautiful city view, and Yoongi found himself walking towards the glass sliding door. He hardly went outside, and the brittle wind scratched at his pink cheeks and nose and whipped his hair into a tangled mess over his eyes and ears and forehead.
Yoongi let himself watch the scenery after a brief moment of pondering, hands gripping the railing as he looked towards the horizon. The sun was barely announcing its arrival, and the moon bidding its goodbyes. Yoongi never realized how breathtaking the shift between night to morning really was, too occupied rotting away in his small little room without light.
