quiet ➫ yoongi-centric

1.1

It's been a while since Yoongi has last seen his members. 

5 days? 6 days?

He wasn't really sure how much time had passed, he doesn't even know which day it is. He doesn't remember the last thing he ate nor does he remember if he had talked to anyone outside of the painstakingly plain white walls of his studio. He hasn't used his voice in a while and he can feel a constant ache behind his eyeballs. The muscles of his back seemed to be crumpled together from being slouched over in front of his monitor. Holed up in that tiny room, Yoongi finds it a little hard to breathe, the musty air in the atmosphere seemed to strangle him slowly. 

His coughs kept getting stronger and more frequent with each moment passing by. There lay an empty water bottle careless by his desk, he hasn't had water in 5 hours. He feels the weight of an entire desert on his tongue- but his brain was too occupied to pay any heed to the dryness or multiple pangs of pain resonating throughout his body and the seemingly permanent numbness in his legs. 

His hands paused for a moment, still lingering over the keyboard, before as his eyes notice the tiny notification at the side of the monitor. 

The title of the email read, cover for the album - final touches to be added,  as Yoongi clicked at the pdf. Twin images opened up, both of a plain white background with one version of the cover having dark grey shadows looming over it while the other had a baby pink hue with cotton candy-colored shadows cast over it. The text on the album seemed to be rather engraved into the cover, with a clever shadow lining effect adding depth. 

The Most Beautiful Moment In Life

He stares in awe at the cover, it isn't like the previous ones. This one has a sense of sophistication to it, a striking contrast from the rebellious teenage vibe their previous albums had had. The designers have truly bypassed his expectations, increasing the burden of producing equally good songs plague his thoughts. 

He looked at the pictures with concentration as if expecting them to change at any moment, they were almost serene. Certainly, a sharp contrast from the cover of the previous albums. The songs on this album couldn't have been about teenage angst and young love, in yoongi's perspective. The concept had to be purer, more focused on the idea of youth as a whole rather than the rather smaller elements which would eventually leak into adulthood. Concepts of friendship, innocence and the age before hopes and dreams were corrupted by pressures of the society and the need to survive in a cut-throat world. The era of laughter, late nights and drunken antics, where every mistake was just a story for a later day and every argument held no significance. 

Yoongi's eyes turn to the photo frame next to his computer. It's a group picture of them, after one of their concerts. He remembers feeling so anxious before the concert, his heart thumping in his eardrums as he tried to concentrate on is breathing. He remembers it was hard to swallow and his fingers kept twitching. Even on stage, he tried his best to match all the steps with the members, he remembers trying to maintain his facial expression as he stared into the crowd. They didn't have lightsticks yet, so the fans opted for holding banners. He could make out his names on a few of them but most of them were targeted at the maknae line. When his part came, he didn't remember actually rapping his verse- everything seemed like muscle memory at that moment; however, he remembers feeling disbelief. Consciously registering the fact that he was there, in front of everyone, doing what he had always wanted. And he had always expected himself to be happy once he was there. 

It was always a negotiation with his own self, once he composes his own song, once he sells his own song, once he gets into a company, once he gets his first paycheck, once he debuts, once his albums sell, once he performs in front of a crowd, cheering him on. Once he finally achieves something, he would be happy- a promise to himself. Yet it was an empty promise for he was still oblivious to the feeling of satisfaction and pure happiness; an emptiness in his chest kept him aware of his numbing state. A tainted thought always loomed at the back of his mind, maybe he'd never achieve happiness, that maybe all of this was for nothing- that he'd still always be alone at the end of the day. The warmth of his comforter trying to make up for the coldness in his heart.