Keeping Me Up || Yoonmin

Why Him?

Hoseok's POV
This is the third time I've called and it's gone to voicemail. Sure, he could just be sleeping, could be in the shower, could be making breakfast; it wasn't a set deal that he was hurt.
But he's not answered any of them. If something wasn't wrong then he would answer right? What if he passed out from not eating? What if he fainted from not sleeping?

"Hey Jin, have you seen him lately?" I asked, wringing my bracelets around my wrist. The café had too many customers in it today and I was extra anxious; I'd messed up about five orders.

"I just saw him last night. Why?" He mumbled, tossing together two caramel frappes.

"He hasn't been answering any of my calls and I'm worried. Namjoon's at class and- I- Jin what if he passed out? He hasn't been eating and he hasn't been sleeping- and- and-"

"Hope, calm down. You're gonna pass out if you don't breathe between your damn sentences." Jin hissed, propping his hands up on my shoulders and smoothing down my hair. I swallowed thick, slowing down my breathing and stressing my lower lip between my teeth. "Look. I'll call up Yugyeom and Kunpimook and have them cover both your shifts okay? Take a slice of carrot cake, he's been favoring that one lately, and see if he's okay."

"Thank you." I heaved, scrambling to get a piece of cake into a plastic container and dart my way past the group of freshly painted art students.
I really hoped he was okay- if any thing happened to him I-
"Fuck." I sniffed, wiping my eyes and speeding up my pace. The clouds above me growled with angst and swirled like waves over a rock bed. The sickeningly sweet smell of fresh soil and rain filtered through my nose and onto my skin; tickling my senses.

In all seriousness, I probably looked like I was insane; book bag falling halfway off my shoulders, carrot cake sloshing frosting all over the clear plastic container in my hand, one of my shoes was slipping off, and I had neon orange, yellow, blue, green and pink paint smeared over my right arm from my art class this morning.
I'd unknowingly pulled on the silk button up pajama shirt my mum bought me last Christmas as well a these old bleach splattered skinnies I'd broken my leg in last year.
Why? Why was I such a mess? Simple.
Min Yoongi.

"Hey, Mrs. Chu!" I yelled while nearly tipping over an old lady from Yoongi's floor.
I skipped the elevator, running up the stairs instead and thanking my past self for becoming a dancer. By the time I reached his floor, I had about a thousand more worries clinging against my ear and singing siren songs.

Please be okay. Please be okay. Yoongi was my best friend and I was responsible for him. I remember the last time he stopped eating and sleeping; his grandfather had just died and he stayed home from school for weeks. The two were closer than puzzle pieces and always talked about pursuing music and starting a company together.
I came over to visit him and see how he was doing while his parents were away grieving with other relatives and he'd been passed out; his ear bleeding and nearly cut in half.
It was the most traumatizing moment of my life- I was sure he was dying.

"Yoongi?" I called out, knocking frantically against the door. "God, please answer."
I knocked harder, pushing my entire body up against the painted wood. I could feel my head spin as time went on, the lump in my throats burned just as much as the salt water churning behind my eyes.

Then the door opened.

"Hoseok, stop pounding on my door. I was in the show- oof!" I pulled him in by his shoulders, holding his head against my chest. Relief was a fresh breeze of lilac soap and citrus shampoo, damp bangs and moist skin. "Hobi- you look like shit." He said. His eyebrows knit together and pale hands stretched up to cup my face.
If I wasn't blushing before, I was now. I hated how much power he had over me just with the simplest things. My heart fluttered against my chest, wishing to break free and throw itself off the fire escape.