Pretty | Yoonmin (DISCONTINUED)

forty

Yoongi couldn't stop thinking of darkness eating at his insides until he was rotten and overflowing with dirt and rocks; nor could he stop thinking of stinging hands and blossoming petals of thick crimson pain that burned his lips with melting acid. His eyes weren't working quite right. His living room kept turning to dim places under loose ceilings. Carpets turned scarlet with blood, and he swore that whenever he turned his head, he saw her pleading for mercy.

His nose burned with unwelcome memories of hazes and smoky words and alcohol and too many people. And his thoughts were too heavy...so heavy that they hit his skull like rocks repeatedly hitting a glass window. Until all the shattered pieces were knocked out and embedded in his bleeding brain.

But he could hear Jimin's heartbeat. It was a little fast, a little unusually fast. Still fervent with anxiety and roiling with worry, though Yoongi could hardly understand that in his state of mind. But Jimin's heartbeat was as constant as it had always been, and his chest was soft, and his body was a hearth. His limbs curled around him, delicately, as though understanding that a harsh touch would undo him. And though his ears were full of screams and anger, he could hear the steady sound of soft, tickling breathing. Rosy exhales from a pink mouth, and it soothed the toughness of his crumbling skin.

He tried to focus on that. On Jimin. His flower.

He liked being wrapped in his embrace. He didn't want him to leave, because he felt that if he loosened his grip for even a mere moment, the things he was barely keeping at bay would come rushing in. And they would claim him as their own.

And being a boy of broken pieces, frail bones, and twisted hearts, he would let them.

He knew Jimin needed to get up for something. It had been ten minutes, and he was starting to shift and rustle against him in that way he did when he wanted something but was unsure of how to ask for it. Yoongi knew he needed something. But he didn't want to let him go.

He couldn't seem to.

"Yoongi hyung?" Jimin finally gained the courage to hum against the older's ear. He spoke in a near whisper, only a sliver of his golden, high voice actually making an appearance in the question. Yet it still managed to brush against his ears until they were flushed and burning magenta with pleasure. "Um...I have to get up very quickly...Seokjin hyung is coming soon and he asked me to get out the board games...?"

He voiced it like a question. Like he was unsure.

Yoongi pressed further into his sweet redolence, basking in it. It was so much warmer than the scent of cold and aching bodies under rotting wood.

Jimin smelled like safe, and safe was what Yoongi needed at the moment.

"Yoongi hyung...?"

He glanced up at Jimin's timid eyes and hesitant lips drawling reluctant syllables through heavy lashes. He tilted his head in silent response while attempting to prevent his mind from twisting any of his other surroundings into past memories.

Jimin laughed gently. Yoongi felt his hesitant giggles jumping in his chest. "You like me that much, huh?"

Sunset heat threatened to rise to his cheeks, but it couldn't quite seem to gain the strength. Instead, all he could muster in reaction to Jimin's slight, playful flirting was an extra beat of his heart and a puff of blushing red breath. He dipped his head back down until his chin was resting just over his rib cage. His fingers were preoccupied, twisting at the fabric of Jimin's sweater, clammy and anxious. And even if they hadn't been, what would he say?

He was losing all of his words again.

Jimin sighed, and Yoongi felt the exhale brush against strands of fading blue hair.