quiet ➫ yoongi-centric

0.7

NOTE: there a slight trigger warning in this chapter, although nothing too graphic

Breakfast went by quickly, mostly because Yoongi wasn't sitting at the table while everyone ate. 

He sat in the toilet, under the pretense of an upset stomach. Curled up in the bathtub, a slight chill soaking through the warmth of his thin shirt, leaking into his skin as soaked into his chest, slowly inching around his body. Goosebumps covered the tiny patches of skin which peaked out, as he sat there quietly, just staring at his feet. 

Tears didn't exude, just glazed over his blood-shot eyes; mistaking him for someone high would have been fairly simple. His lips were dry and chapped, and even though he couldn't see them, he knew they were bleeding from constantly gnawing on them. He rested his cheek on his bony knee, the bone slightly prodding the slight layer of fat on his cheek. His toes were curled up in a futile attempt to provide warmth, but his slightly shaking shoulders said otherwise. 

However, even the bitter winter of the dead was warmer than the ice in his soul. Like sharp icicles, his mind was edged with the words uttered in the silence of the night- a single touch was enough to cut through his soul. Enough to stain his hands red from his bleeding mind and leave faint scars littered on his thighs, just enough to break through the first layer of his skin, making it swell up slightly. The icicles, they grew slowly yet steadily, just like his insecurities until the force of gravity made it come crashing down, like a sword piercing through his soul. Except his enemy wasn't a loyal friend turned evil or a known ally gone rogue- it was his own self, an enemy he could not defeat without killing himself in the process. 

The lump in his throat kept growing as he thought about his life, in general. From the first moments of his life, he could remember (his brother handing him a lolly) to the bright tableaux of events which happened recently. They, in retrospect, held no significance. They weren't any one of the important moments like getting into BTS, leaving for Seoul or even their debut stage. They were vague, blurry grains of moments he had no proof had happened. They had no memory to follow up after or before them, they just registered in Yoongi's brain and had imprinted themselves ever since. The most recent frozen second was from three days ago. They had taken a tiny break from dance practice, Namjoon was talking to the manager outside the room while Jin had accompanied Hoseok and Jimin to the toilet, where he would strategically stop in front of the vending machine and make them both eat at least half a packet of chips. It was only him and the two youngest of the team. He could barely make out their blurry figure with his frantic heartbeat and pounding headache preventing him keeping his eyes open more than 3.4 mm. However, he could still see the way Jungkook rested his head against Taehyung's chest and the one unconsciously patted his hair as one would do a small puppy (as Taehyung would come to do for yeontan, Yoongi would realize in the following years). 

They looked comfortable even though Jungkook was practically resting on Taehyung's ribcage, probably an unwelcome weight of a sweaty body- the last thing any of them wanted in the few precious minutes they got. 

Yoongi remembers the way he sat there, watching them with empty eyes. The sudden chill in his chest reminded him of his desolation, how he was so close yet so far away, how he could be sitting next to them yet he wasn't. He could have easily joined in on their cuddle pile yet his legs seemed to have fallen immobile, his hands rested on his stomach; doing nothing to raise himself up. 

He remembers being unable to reason his sadness, they weren't just his insecurities haunting him, they were more. His sadness was like the unexplainable ending of a book which never had a sequel, only unsatisfying theories leaving plot holes littered around. He just knows felt sad all of a sudden, although it initially crept up to him slowly, mimicking a predator stalking his prey. He only registered it and like the sudden gushing of water, it drowned him. His own sadness was the reason his feet were rooted to the ground, preventing him to take flight with the wings which he had bloomed.