sunshine • myg + jhs

02

i have sunday nights off.
i managed to convince my boss to allow that because it's the lords time.
but, as i've stated before, i'm a shit liar.
so i never said i need time for church.
or for family.
because i don't pay much mind those things much anymore.
if family really loved you like they said they did, they wouldn't do the awful things they did.
if god really loved human kind like it says in his book, suffering would not happen and all would be well in this world.
but nothing is well.
all is shit.
that's just life.
i take a swig of the hennessey in my hand and stare blankly at the show tiny has chosen letting the alcohol cloud my brain.
he lies cuddled into his boyfriends chest sleeping.
deep down, in the depths of what would have been my soul if i weren't born without one, i wish i had something like that.
a person instead of a bottle.
someone to calm my nerves rather than just smoking them away.
it's a small feeling.
and it fades quickly.
mainly because the boy tiny lies upon speaks.
"hey. dude," he says.
i turn my head towards him.
he tosses the remote my way, and being caught off guard i don't catch it.
it crashes onto the floor and one of the batteries pops out.
tiny wakes up from the sudden noise.
he looks at the boy he lays on and the boy smiles.
he's rather cute.
"kookie?" he asks rubbing his eye with his fist.
"it's me baby don't worry. we're going to bed, okay? go back to sleep. i'll carry you." he says, then apologizes for the remote and picks tiny up and heads to their room.
i feel something inside of me churn.
a needy kind of churn.
i figure i'm just yearning for another smoke, so i do just so.
i gather the pieces to the remote so nobody slips, then pull my coat on.
i have cigarettes in the pocket.
i keep them there so i have to make no extra effort to go and get them.
i head outside of my building and the cold is an immediate pain.
to my bare cheeks.
to my shit lungs.
to my frail fingers.
but i like the cold.
i can feel it. and it's not a bad feeling that i just want to kill like all the other feelings i have. it's a good feeling, like the head of the water, that let's me know i'm not completely numb.
i stare up into the night sky at the stars as i pull the lighter to my lips.
i strike it once.
twice.
fire.
"it's getting old." i say to myself, making a mental note.
"you look as if you are too, min yoongi." a voice says, startling me.
i turn around and see the new boy from the bakery.
"why the hell are you here?" i ask, "and who gave you my name?"
he laughs and hands me my hat.
i had left it at the bakery yesterday.
it was my fathers and he wrote my name in it when he gave it to me.
we didn't have much money, or much anything really, so he only had that hat. only that one. and he gave it to me when i was 13.
he didn't want it stolen or for me to loose it, so he wrote my name on the inside.
i've had it ever since.
"you promised you wouldn't talk to me. and you still haven't answered my question. why are you here?"
"i live here now because- oh i don't want to bore you with why. i took your hat because i knew someone else with bad intentions would, and it looks old and so i figured it had sentimental value. so i kept it in my car and was going to give it to you tomorrow, but i just got back from dinner and saw you so..."
he pushes the hat towards me and i realize i hadn't taken it yet, so i snatch it away.
i push it over my hair and ears and start to lift my fingers to take another drag but remember how he destroyed two of my tubes the previous day, so i stop before the orange glow gets in his sight line.
"you could say thank you, you know."
"yeah, thanks."
"you're very mysterious yoongi. and i can tell that you don't like me. but i think i have you figured out."
i chuckle.
"see the key word is think. you think. but i don't even have myself figured out, so i'd absolutely love to hear about me from your perspective,"
"you smoke those things because you're trying to achieve what you believe that you crave which is death. but you don't crave death. you're terrified of it. if i asked you to coffee right now- and you didn't hate me- you'd say that you shouldn't drive. would that be to protect me or you? that'd be your argument. it's both. because you care more than you show. you care about yourself because you don't crave death. you don't want what it is you believe. because although you're very small, everyone is capable of doing away with what they don't want, so if you didn't want your life anymore with as much passion as you put out, you'd be in the grave. like i said yesterday you don't want death. you just fear life. because you deep down know you don't control it and that scares you. everyone else controls what happens in your life by just living theirs. so you're an absolute dick head because that's your way of getting them back under your control. you're scared of murderers- and this is just a thought based on observation- because you can't control your own murder. you're sick, you can choose to fight it. you hate life, you can choose to take it. you can't choose to not let someone murder you. so when your roommate watches documentaries on murderers, you sleep. you like sleep because you take it as an escape from life. which i agree, but you do it too often because, like i've said, you fear life. you call your roommate by a nickname because you don't want to get onto a first name basis because that puts you closer to friendship which puts you closer to getting attached and everyone dies anyway so why make connections, right? you aren't quite comfortable in your sexuality so you put on a mask of dick headedness to make yourself seem un-stereotypical. deep down you crave attention from someone and when you see your roommate with their partner something inside you twists and you claim that don't know what it is, but deep down you do. you want that connection. and you have a big secret. as a result of you not treating yourself properly nobody knows about it, because like i said, you think you crave death. you're sick. a deadly disease. cancer of some kind. and thats why your bones ache so badly at your age. just some things i've observed. might be wrong. but seeing as you haven't sucked on that-"
he swipes the cigarette out of my fingers, "at all this whole time. i take it i'm not."
he drops it to the ground and presses his toe into it.
normally i'd be going hysterical, but i stay silent.
"yoongi its okay to feel things and be afraid. it's what makes you human. it's-"
i stop him there.
"don't you fucking dare start putting me in the catagory of humans. all humans are imbeciles. they make rash decisions and don't think into the future and they're all just... morons. and you just prove my point. i don't care what you think you've observed, you're wrong. everything you said..." i hear his words echo in my head. and my composure begins to wither. 'you're sick. a deadly disease. cancer of some kind'
"you're wrong about me." tears begin to heat up in my eyes and fall down my cheeks rapidly.
"i'm not sick! i'm not!"
he takes me in his arms and although i try to push him away, the force he uses to keep me close is too much.
or maybe i didn't push as hard as i thought.
maybe i didn't push much at all.
"i'm not sick."
i weep into his shoulder and he lets me.
he doesn't even know me.
i don't even know him.
why does he let me?
"i'm not sick"