Not So Fine | Yoonmin

Chapter 9

Yoongi POV

Sighing to myself, I run a hand through my hair, tears that are staining my cheeks long forgotten by now. I've got a new bottle of soju in my hands as I stare at the wall above Joon's head as he watches me worriedly.

"Do you still wanna do this, hyung? You don't have to keep putting yourself through this abuse from the public if you're not up to it." Namjoon asks softly, worry laced in his voice.

"It's never going away, Joon. The public is always going to hate me, just as my father does. It's not like I'll be around three years from now to keep getting shit. After today? I'd be lucky if the world ever saw a day where people don't hate my guts. I don't know who's setting me up, but I doubt anyone will ever figure it out anyways. The blame will always fall on me." I answer, my voice a bit hoarse by this point. I don't take my gaze away from the wall as I take another couple swallows from the bottle of soju, slowly beginning to feel my insides churn with the amount of alcohol I've got in my system compared to how much I've eaten.

"I'm just saying, hyung. You don't have to put yourself through this torture that the public is giving you. I know you love music, but maybe you don't need to spend the last of your time in the industry. Ultimately it's still your call, but I think you should at least try to think about it." Namjoon counters gently, still very much concerned.

I merely shrug though.

"I'm not doing this for fans or for the money anymore, Joon. Hell, I don't have anyone to do it for. All I've got is myself. I don't wanna stop making music though. I already lost Jimin. I've lost ninety percent of my sanity and hope. I don't want to lose the rest of it by giving up music. Nobody has to listen to any of what I put out if they don't want to. They don't have to listen to what I have to say. I don't know if I can die with this many things being left unsaid though." I respond quietly, gaze unmoving.

He sighs, nodding as he stands and crosses the room to me.

"Okay. I'll let you have your space, hyung. Please, let me know if there's anything I can do for you ever. I'm always here for you, hyung." Joon murmurs, running his fingers through my hair once before turning and exiting the studio.

I swallow thickly at this, feeling my heart break a little more inside. Nobody's ever truly always there for anyone. There is no always. I learned that the hard way twice, and I don't intend to make it a third time.

That doesn't make it any easier though. It doesn't make it easy to continue on day after day knowing you're truly alone in this world. That you're not good enough to be loved for forever. That no one person can stay by your side for more than a few years. No matter how close you'd been with them, it changes nothing.

I'm pulled from my thoughts by the sound of a light knock against my door, a small frown covering my features. I simply wait for a moment though, knowing it must be Joon since we don't have a whole lot of people here to begin with and considering there's not a soul alive right now that knows my name and doesn't hate me.

Though, when I hear the knock a second time, I reluctantly stand up. Taking a small swig from the bottle of soju, I set the bottle down on the table before making my way to the door and opening it up.

However, I don't for a second believe my sight when I find who's on the other side of the door.

"Jiminie?" I mumble under my breath out of near instinct. He looks unbelievably disheveled and exhausted, but he's still just as beautiful as ever.

"We need to talk, Yoongi. I'm tired of the games and I'm tired of being made a fool." Jimin responds, tone quiet but stern with a slight bit of annoyance sinking into it.

If it's possibly to shatter something that's already in smithereens, he must've figured out how to do exactly that. My heart sinks further in my chest if possible, and I lower my head as I feel a fresh wave of tears hit.

I don't bother saying anything to him, stepping back and heading back to my desk chair to sit down once more. He follows me in, closing the door behind him before moving to take a seat on the couch. I can't bring myself to look up to him, reaching over and taking my bottle of soju to have another sip. I know what he's here for, know what his thoughts towards me are, and I'm not entirely sure I can make it through this conversation.