Just another bottle

Jungkook.

     Standing in front of the graveyard, a small, delicate white rose in hand. Bouquets were never yoongi's thing, he preferred to brush his fingers over singular flowers and pick them from gardens. With permission sometimes, normally without. He's Yoongi, after all.
     Jungkooks throat feels tight as he takes cautious steps into the gloomy area, immediately able to spot the grave he's looking for. It's already surrounded by flowers, decorations and even photographs. The dirt still looks freshly dug up. He remembers complimenting Jin for picking out the stone, simple yet so complex at the same time.
         The young boy kneels down in front of the gravestone with trembling hands, placing the white rose on top of a photo. The photo makes his bottom lip wobble, quickly clamping down on it with his teeth to refrain from any tears or whimpers. It's of Yoongi at their favorite bar, gummy smile on show with a drink in hand. He looked so happy, so content with life. What happened?
       His brown eyes glance over every detail of the stone, every crack and flaw. Somehow, it makes it more perfect. Yoongi was flawed, no doubt. But he still managed to be seen as perfect amongst the boys. If only they told him that, if only they payed more attention.
      You could've asked for help.
  Jungkook leans his head against his palm, not moving away from the grave for a solid hour. He just sits there, legs crossed over each other. Ignoring the fact that his expensive pants are now soiled.
        It's a sight to behold. A pretty boy surrounded by bouquets, tears soaking his now flushed cheeks as his eyes remain unwavering. Even through his blurry vision.
    Yoongi and him weren't the closest of friends. He was the youngest, always seeming to be amazing at everything. He even believed that Yoongi resented him for some time. He's now realizing that Yoongi simply had more going on than what showed on the surface.
    He can't help but worry for namjoon, Jimin. They were so close to Yoongi, so very close to the broken boy. Yet even they didn't expect something as drastic as this. Nobody did.
      When night falls, the boy slowly rises up from his spot in the dirt, brushing himself off and looking up at the sky. It's pretty, the sunset turning grim and the moon rising from its slumber. Yet it somehow reminds him of this terrible situation they've found themselves in. With a final glance to the grave, he gives a curt nod and turns on his heel, walking back towards the entrance.
      He's turning his back on his friend, he can't imagine returning to.. this. This is the last time.
        You could've asked for help.