really? m o r e late night yoonmin?

.

Yoongi pulled up his hood to stop the cold breeze from reaching his neck. Shit, it was chilly outside. 

The darkness of the night couldn't penetrate the lights of the "bad part of town", as Jin called it. Yoongi didn't think it was inherently bad. Yes, there were bars and tattoo shops (and he's pretty sure he saw a dude with a bag full of needles) but that didn't mean everything there was bad. Yoongi viewed the world a little differently than his friends, he guesses, because his work is so accepting and open. Jin's- not that he's a bad person, but being a CEO definitely isn't based on morals. It came with a big paycheck, though, and Jin made sure Yoongi leeched off of it as best as he could. 

Every time Yoongi left Jin's condo downtown to walk to the dilapidated parking garage where he left his expensive-ass car, Jin would ingrain into his head that, "Yah, Yoongi-ah, I may pretend like I don't love you but I swear to my beautiful ass, if something happens to you, I will never forgive myself. If you need a ride to your car, don't be afraid to ask, alright?" And Yoongi would nod along, open the door, and mutter, "love you too, hyung," before closing it and leaving the building. 

Yoongi preferred walking, anyway. The night air was bitter, that's true, but walking down a lit street while sirens went off in the distance and people lumbered in and out of shops and bars- that felt weightless, airy, free. 

Well, sometimes.

Yoongi passed some bar and yet another tattoo parlor before coming up to an old bus stop. The parking garage was just past it; he walked by the run-down thing every time he came from Jin's. The seats inside were old and rusted, probably not safe to sit on, and the plastic panels on the back were crowded with posters and papers and all sorts of paint and adhesive. 

As Yoongi got closer to the bus stop, he heard soft sniffles and shaky breaths. A speck of bright pink was illuminated by the nearby street lamp, and as Yoongi got closer, he noticed those sniffles and that bright color were from the same place. 

A boy was leaning against the back of the bus stop. He was sitting with his knees bent and his hands holding his head and Yoongi could tell, even from a few feet away, he was shaking. The poor guy was probably cold, Yoongi noticed. His jeans didn't reach the top of his black tennis shoes and he seemed to only be wearing a graphic tee on his top. Yoongi also couldn't help but notice the vibrant shade of his hair barely lit by an overhead streetlamp. His sniffles grew into whines- he was crying. 

Well fuck this standing around, Yoongi thought. Yoongi was a good person and had gone through things like this himself. He felt an obligation to help the kid.

Yoongi approached the boy, careful not to be too abrupt or loud. "Hey, you need someone right now?" 

The boy looked up, probably shocked that anyone noticed him. He stared at Yoongi with tears in his eyes before hurriedly speaking. "O-oh- Um. I'm," he paused to sniffle, "I'm fine."

Yoongi let a small smile appear on his face before sitting on the ground in front of the boy, positioning himself close enough to touch his lower leg, but not actually touching. "Kid, I'm a licensed therapist. I can tell when someone needs to let everything out. Talk to me if you want, tell me to leave if you're uncomfortable. Otherwise, I'll be right here with you." Yoongi said, almost a mechanical action by now. 

The boy looked at him like he'd grown another head. Tear stains caught light in the street lamp, accentuating his rosy cheeks. He looked adorable. "You're a therapist?"

"Yeah, I studied music therapy in college and got a BD for it. I work with cuddle therapy, too." Yoongi smiled. "I know I don't look the part, with all of my ear piercings and my dark wardrobe, but I know what I'm doing."