Golden •vkook•

3.0

Someone stop this boy.
---

Melted gold,
Dripping through fingers,
Seeping from pores,
The ache of losing it all,
Falling apart,
Burning to the touch,
Creating so much beauty,
But so much pain.

• • •

Jungkook regretted it. He so regretted it.

But, not at the beginning.

At first, he walked into the house pulsing with various colored lights and dangerously loud music, bursting at the seams with drunk college students stumbling over their words, or their own feet, and felt relatively at ease. The crush of sweaty bodies against him reminded him that he wasn't alone. The blaring hip-hop drowned out the thoughts swimming dangerously close to the surface of his brain. As he walked along the hallway leading to the living room, Jungkook almost felt the corners of his lips tug upwards. Almost, but not quite.

As he brushed past multiple men clad in tight leather pants with wild hair and women wearing as little as possible to accentuate their made-up faces, among other things, he strained his already tired eyes for a flash of mint in the packed living room. Deeming the task futile after a few minutes spent pressed up against the wall due to the immense number of bodies and no small, pale musicians to be seen, Jungkook rudely shoved into the middle of the hallway and pushed through the hot masses to the kitchen. With a sigh of relief, the raven-haired boy found who he was searching for in a matter of seconds.

"Hyung!" Jungkook exclaimed, making his way across the tiled floor of the (relatively) empty room. The small boy looked up and flashed the younger a gummy smile, pale cheeks pinker than usual due to his alcohol consumption.

"Jungkook, you actually came," Yoongi stayed with a smirk, a mischievous glint in his lidded eyes. "I'm almost surprised." The two boys both let out a chuckle, and the taller leaned against the counter cluttered with red solo cups and half empty liquor bottles.

The heir simply shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest, which was clad in a tight fitting white t-shirt. He could feel his hyung's gaze taking in his outfit and hair. The older gave a nod of approval at the skin-tight leather pants and timberlands he had changed into a few minutes prior to attending the house party. Internally, Jungkook sighed in relief. If Min I-Will-Call-You-Out-On-Anything Yoongi hadn't noticed his red-rimmed eyes, the small cuts on his hands, or the almost sickly pale hue of his skin, then nobody else was likely to.

"The golden maknae has yet to disappoint," Yoongi teased, smiling slightly and taking a sip of whatever poison was in his cup. The raven-haired boy just shook his head and released a forced chuckle. Not disappoint? Please, all he was was a disappointment. He cast his weary gaze around the room, noting the fact that the kitchen was actually very nice, albeit it being covered in junk food packages, cups, and alcohol. Jungkook's eyes stayed trained on the bottles of alcohol behind him, distant memories playing like a background montage in his mind. His friend noticed where his dark eyes had landed, and hit his shoulder. "You want a drink, man?"

The taller of the two men turned to look back at his friend and shook his head. "I, uh, don't really drink. . ." He admitted with a nonchalant shrug, trailing off at the end. Yoongi's lidded eyes widened, his mouth forming a surprised 'o'. Jungkook fought the urge to be embarrassed at his reaction, and kept his face an emotionless mask, as he had been taught to do from a young age.

"Seriously? I would've taken you for. . ." The mint-haired man trailed off, opting instead to take a long gulp of his own drink. At this Jungkook felt a corner of his lip pull upwards, giving him a half-smile. He faced this assumption a lot, even though he rarely exposed the fact that he didn't drink, since it was hardly anyone's goddamned business.