Bangtan Angst [ Editing ]

Transcience [ YoonSeok ]

#BangtanRoyaleActivity #YoonseokAngst

tw: non-con, substance (alcohol) abuse, smut ; 1.2k words

transcience.

Eyelids flutter shut as he exhales, breath coming out slightly more unsteady than intended. He curses at himself silently as a result.

To be shaken up appears to be nearly impossible for someone with such a stoic demeanor. Assumed by souls who have never caught a glimpse of the thoughts endlessly consuming Yoongi, taunting him once he’s put in a situation he fears — losing control of the events that unfold right before his eyes.

Yoongi fears being strapped into a seat thirty five feet up in the air. He loathes the feeling of the occasional turbulence reminding him of where he is. He would have gotten up and found a way to escape in another scenario, but doing that in this one would only lead to a quicker death by suffocation.

His fate is unknown; giving some pilot control to his life gave him two main endings: either he lands safely or the aircraft turns into one big coffin for everyone in it. The pilot seemed to value their passengers’ lives, and lets them arrive to their destination in one piece.

It’s a blessing, yet a curse. It just means Yoongi has to face the other demons waiting to consume him whole.

Yoongi meets darkness, and hates it just as much. The fact that his feet are on the ground is the only thing that keeps him sane, but his sense of sight is stripped away and heightens the rest to make sure nothing’s watching him. Or planning to kill him. It makes him miss how the faint light from all the stars up above made everything around him glow.

Except when the boy actually takes time to admire the constellations on a cold night, comfort is nowhere to be found. He meets fear once more, manipulating what used to be such a wholesome feeling towards space into dread. Now the boy realizes how little he is in this world.

The Universe, vast and barely known. It makes Yoongi feel lonely.

In the middle of his existential crisis he wonders how astronauts must feel out in space. Promises himself he’ll never explore it. It’s safer staying on Earth, the galaxy is Goliath and he’s David without the ability to actually overcome such a powerful force.

What goes over Yoongi’s head, however, is the possibility being absolutely helpless even when he isn’t up in the air or our out in space or surrounded by pitch black.

Saturday evenings are almost always spent intoxicated, hazy mind and half-lidded eyes seeing bodies dancing to the bass and his own completely smashed reflection against the empty shot glasses he no longer bothers to count.

He lets his guard down, thinking nothing could frighten him in such a well-lit club; Yoongi feels warm, both from the whiskey and rum flowing through his veins and from the stranger sitting next to him at the bar. He’s oblivious to the stares he’s receiving, and the way the guy next to him inches closer and closer, whispering sweet nothings and invitations for a satisfying evening with him. The words fail to register in Yoongi’s head, an airy chuckle slipping past his lips as a response in hopes that the stranger would take it as a sign of his disinterest toward whatever he had said.

The latter doesn’t back out. Instead, presses himself against Yoongi, the sensation of skin against skin burning terribly. But it eventually dissipates once the air turns cold all of a sudden. It’s a brief moment of peace and silence, yet dark.

It’s dark.

Fear sets in, and it finally comes to his senses that he’s been dragged into a car going God knows where. Attempts to open the door once it comes to a halt but Yoongi’s only greeted by a rough tug at his wrist into an apartment that isn’t his own.

He wants out — tries to scream for help but nothing comes out of his mouth other than a soft sob. Yoongi hardly recognizes his own voice nor does he have any control of his own body, falling completely pliant for the stranger to toy with as he pleases. The words come back again, and it confuses him even more. He doesn’t want it, but the words say he’s loving it. Should even be thankful for being touched by someone that night.

Yoongi doesn’t remember what happens next. He finds himself lying in a bed next to the nightmare who reeks of smoke and tequilla next morning, his own shirt pushed up to his chest and pants undone.

It takes all of his remaining willpower not to throw up, already picturing out how society would ridicule him for saying he’s been raped when he’s obviously a guy. Haphazardly fixing his clothes, he runs for the door and prays to the heavens he never has to remember it at all.

Except it always does, when he sees comments joking about rape victims asking for it, at night when his subconscious replays it like a movie as he begs for nothing but some shut-eye, and whenever he looks at himself in the mirror and sees purple bruises blooming all over his neck and collarbones.

So instead of seeking help, Saturday drinking turns into daily intoxication. Hopes he throws all his guts up and never wakes up again. Throws himself onto people in hopes someone would see him as something more than a quick fuck.

And on one night, he finds his chapped lips pressed against soft, heart-shaped ones. It’s refreshing, how the body pressed against him doesn’t try setting a record for the shortest time in bed with him and takes his time to actually make sure Yoongi feels good. They exchange names to know what to scream tonight. Yoongi thinks Hoseok is a pretty name, but doesn’t voice this thought out.

The night is filled with bliss for once, doesn’t know how many times he’s whispered out Hoseok’s name and listened to it bounce off the walls of his own room as the latter fucks him into the mattress and curls his fingers into Yoongi’s locks to keep him grounded. The stinging yet overwhelming feeling feels amazing and Yoongi silently prays it never has to end.

But it does, throws both of them into a high that could rival the Supernova. They kiss once, twice, until they both run out of breath.

Once he comes down from the high he finds himself curled up in Hoseok’s arms, chaste kisses being pressed over hickeys to soothe them before he feels a hand carefully brushing through his hair. It’s comforting. Almost brings Yoongi to tears, even, at the feeling of being cared for.

Perhaps there’s hope for someone as filthy and wrecked as him, too. Yoongi snuggles up in Hoseok’s arms even more, and falls asleep content at the thought of finally being loved. Finally saved from the nightmare that has never left him alone ever since.

The sunlight from the windows wakes him up, but the sun who had kept him safe last night was nowhere to be found.