Finding You

Chapter 9: Wavelengths

Yoongi woke up feeling like absolute shit a few days later. Maybe it was the exhaustion of going from Los Angeles to Seoul to Mexico and then onwards to Brazil in the span of five days, but he had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't. He didn't feel exhausted, he felt sad. The ache he had become familiar with, only to be described as what he imagined a stone set inside his torso that caused him to sink to the bottom of a body of water felt like, absolutely tore through him. It was so palpably thick that it would choke him if sadness was actually something that could physically do so. He stared at his ceiling for a long while, the white expanse doing nothing to make him feel sheltered or safe from exposure.

Parting his lips, he let a sigh leave his chest but it did not relieve any of the tension he felt. His dark eyes searched for the window and then settled on the shadows creeping inside from the sill. Tearing it away from the dark sky outside, his gaze traveled to Jin's sleeping form and observed his torso that was slightly rising and falling from beneath the thin sheet he covered himself with.

He took another second to adjust, trying to ignore the sticky atmosphere of the summer night that had swept into the room. With this heat, he'd never be able to slip back into a much-needed sleep. Yoongi pushed the sweaty bangs from his forehead and then glanced for the bedside, meeting the outline of his phone without any need to search for it. Despite his mind being awake, his body was slow and sluggish to respond, muscles in his arms crying out at the sudden movement while he reached for the device. Before he ended up grabbing it, he stretched out his hand, fingers curling inwards. After a few seconds, and sufficient stretching, he picked up his phone and then checked the time, bringing the bright screen to face him.

It was ten after two AM.

Yoongi simply sat there for a few minutes, reflecting on the sadness he felt and the ungodly fucking time. If he could kick himself for waking up at this hour when he desperately needed his rest, he would; they were going to Chile during the day and then he had a concert tomorrow. Sleep was not something he could afford to miss. When he thought about resting, he remembered that there was some allergy medication that would knock his ass out should he take it somewhere with one of the members or maybe the managers. The only thing truly stopping him from finding it was the fact that he wasn't sure where it was and he was far too lethargic to begin looking for it.

He looked towards Jin once more before he got up and shuffled over to the cheaply made desk set up by the window of the hotel room. He tapped the space bar on the keyboard of his laptop to wake it up from its sleep as he sat down with an exhausted sigh, as if the movement from his bed to the desk had taken the last of his energy. He stared at the monitor for a long time, trying his best not to concentrate on how uncomfortably hot and stuffy it was in the room but his mind did it anyways. Because he wasn't distracted by something better than just how hot it was, the sorrow churned inside his chest and felt so much clearer. It was sharp, like the chime of a ringing of a bell. He felt a sense of hopelessness settled deep inside his gut that mingled with an unsettling anxiety. It suddenly occurred to Yoongi that he felt afraid and had absolutely no idea why.

Yoongi was truly starting to wonder if he could be on the receiving end of someone else's burdens because this didn't make any fucking sense otherwise. He had low moods where he couldn't identify the source of his misery before but this was more than just a funk he couldn't shake. Whatever he was feeling was like a response to a situation or an event...the sick kind of anxious hopelessness someone might feel after royally screwing up something important to someone they cared about. But, he hadn't done anything like that recently. In fact, lately, things had been going really well for not just him but the rest of his groupmates too.

Shaking his blond head, he opened his notebook, desperately seeking a distraction. Yoongi opened the book right onto the page that had the tags from Alex's blog written out onto it. Translating their sentences from English to Korean sounded like the exact kind of thing he needed to preoccupy his mind. Realising he could hardly see the writing because of how dark it was in the room, unless he held it up to the monitor's bright light, he turned on the lamp next to his desk to aid in his vision. He reached for his glasses, bending down to his bag, which was leaning against the structure of the desk and fished them out of inside.