Exceptionally Long Night

it's been two years. i miss him.

They all think that maybe Yoongi's depression had returned full force. Had short conversations about it, shared worried glances. Occasional pats to the rapper's shoulders and hugs that should've been longer. Although this feeling of concern was no stranger to any of them, they still felt lost and scared that he might try something this time; try something more drastic. He had been slowly pushing them away since the break ended, and even the stupidest of jokes couldn't elicit an eyeroll. He would stare off and jerk at the slightest mention of something sad. His eyes drifted from his coffee in the mornings to his hands or the wood grain of the table. It was like 2013 Yoongi had returned and nothing could pull him out of the depths of his black hole of a mind.

They decide maybe they should ask him about it. Will that help? Or will it just push him farther away? There's a thin line between everything when these kind of thoughts take hold of a soul. Take him from the people around him, yank him from his passions and smother him beneath dead eyes and an encompassing numb feeling. Seconds turn to minutes that turn into hours that turn into five days since the break ended. They try and try to guide Yoongi back into the world, back from the depths that he had reached. But the monsters grip and pull and force him to stay.

So they ask. They ask and Yoongi tears up. He chokes on all of the words that should have spilled from the moment he got back. He should've told them he should've trusted them he should've known that they would try to help he shouldn't have been so dumb he should stop trying. It's so hard, he tells them. Tells them everything from back home, from his best friend killing himself just days before. They gasp but he doesn't even register it, just keeps going and going and going until he can't breathe from the waterfall of words that spill from his mouth. I should've tried harder I should've talked to him longer I should've checked on him more often I should've told him that I understand and it's my fault it's all my fault he didn't deserve this I wish I was in his place I wish I had died instead.

No, please don't think like that. They plead and cry along with him, try to get him to see the light and to turn away from the self-destruction. They cry for his friend and for Yoongi's mind, that had closed up the moment the news reached him by phone. They cry for the thought of Yoongi being underground instead of his friend; they cry at the guilt of that thought.

Yoongi tries. He tries to open up to them about his thoughts and impulses and tries to lean on them through the mourning process. They continue with schedules throughout this process; they can't all skip work, Yoongi says. He'll be okay, he says. But he goes to the studio and sobs and hurts and slams his feelings into the paper he should be using for love songs. He screams at them and tells them that he hates them. He regrets and regrets and regrets and regrets. He pulls away again because none of them like him, they're all so much better without him. He swims through thoughts that try to drown him, he tries to tell them that he wants to get better. Wants to appreciate the sunshine and cozy blankets and bitter coffee and not feel like he's worthless all the time.

He still hurts. It doesn't go away. It never will. But he tries.