Yoongi has always spent most of his waking hours searching for the Dome : a vast city, bright and shining on the horizon -- should be easy to spot, no? No. Time is falling short; he and Kookie are growing weaker; resources are dwindling. Yoongi is d...
Hey guys! I know... I know it's been a year. You guys really don't deserve that long of a wait and I'm sorry for that. As recompense here's over 9k words!! (Sorry to anyone who doesn't like long ass chapters ":D)
(Also, this story was originally posted and meant for Ao3. On there you'll find a more enriched text than here, 'cause for some reason, italics just don't copy, on my Wattpad. I know it hurts the quality of the delivery when things like that get lost, so please feel free to visit Ao3 if that might ruin your reading experience :c)
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The room was static, unease wafted through the crowd. Like a heavy blanket laid atop their shoulders, the air fell heavy, yet everything seemed to be buzzing.
Yoongi could only focus on the searing pain just above his nose. It felt like a burn. A heavy swell seemed to set across the bridge between his eyes as they refused to open any. Something deep behind his mind told him his face sat flat, forward on the ground, but he couldn't listen to it, not when his head thumped and tumped as if it wanted off his body. The grit of the tile he'd been admiring just seconds earlier pulled down the fragile skin of his sunburnt nose, scratching from the very top to deep down the slope toward his eyebrows.
It stung.
Lower laid a more uncomfortable pressure. Just beneath his pelvis, Yoongi could feel the bumps of what had been wrapped around his waist just moments prior caught under his thighs. Jungkook's legs were kept snug around him as he fell, trapping them on the downfall. The thick, white plaster wrapped tight around his calf must've snapped on impact, jabbing at Yoongi's lower abdomen. It sliced at his outfit, prodding at his already sensitive tummy.
Jungkook must've fallen ugly too. He wailed like an infant, sat atop Yoongi's back. He pushed and pushed his hands at Yoongi's shoulders, trying to pull his leg out from under his hyung.
Yoongi was not appreciating the palms clamouring against his shoulder blades—they shoved at him too hard. His clavicles bumped against the tile floor, the nerves just above the bones springing with annoyance, bumping unceremoniously against the hard surface. His ribs jabbed at him, his knees rigid in their braces slapping against the ground just as hard.
Before long, something was lifting at his hips, a stern, wide hand on either side pulling him upward. Jungkook's knees were peeled from his sides, and with them, the pressure under his pelvis dissipated, his joints resting against a solid floor, no longer pulled back and crooked. As if by a spell, Yoongi could finally breathe again, something he hadn't noticed he'd lost. He still tried to curl around himself, though. His head thrummed, angry and sore from impact, his shoulders and hips stiff.
Before he could dwell any longer on his own aches and pains, something caught his attention.
He couldn't hear his Kookie's cries anymore. He couldn't feel his weight on his back.
