Diary of The Infinite

85| Yoongi

He woke up with a heavy feeling in his head and a warmth in his arms. There was a nagging feeling in the back of his head, a confusing push to get up. He sat up, twisting in a way to keep Jimin rested on the mattress.

There were waterbottles on the nightstand and he reached for one, popping the cap off and letting the water soothe his dry throat. He wiped some off his chin and rubbed his hand through his hair.

He felt out of himself, intensified and dulled at the same time, like being caught between the pane of a one way window. He wanted to sleep more. He wanted to understand.

If he got himself up right now and hounded Void for the answers he needed, would he be safisfied? Void was probably just as mad at him as he was at Void. He didn't look like the yellimg had done him any good; if Yoongi wasn't mistaken, he'd been crying.

But he didn't know how to read into that and laying here doing nothing seemed only to excite his imagination.

So, he dragged himself out of bed and into the kitchen.

It was a common assumption that Yoongi couldn't cook. However, Jin would have his head if he couldn't manage at least one proper dish for every mealtime. By the time he'd whipped up some pancakes and scrambled some eggs, Jimin was draped over his back, clinging to him and not letting go.

It felt good. But incomplete.

Fragile and incomplete.