Yoongi lets the alcohol run down his throat.

 

The clock struck midnight and yet another night was wasted drunk. Curse words dripped from his chapped lips and his mind twisted on itself, pain pounding like a hammer on a metal wall. Struggling to get up, he used his beige couch as leverage and basked in the darkness of his small apartment, glad he smashed his mirrors a long time ago because he couldn’t bare to look at himself right now. His limping footsteps echoed through the semi-empty room and a smile blossomed onto his face when he felt the coldness of the kitchen counter. His pale hand slammed across the wall, hitting the lightswitch harshly. The small dim light desperately combatted the darkness and suddenly Yoongi felt nauseous. The room spun like a carousel and he was the supporting beam to keep it up. The thought made him laugh bitterly. How do you keep a moving machine running if you can’t even keep yourself sane?

 

He allowed both hands to fall on the marble surface, choking down the oxygen he didn’t want in his system and gripped the beer bottles’ neck tightly, sloppily climbing onto the elevated surface. Tipping the dark brown glass over, more than enough pours out, excess liquid dripping down his crisp white shirt and tie. For what seems like the fifth time tonight, he laughs to himself, happiness long gone from the noise. Incoherent mumbles fell out of his bright red lips. “It’ll be fun, they said. You’ve moved on, they said. Jungkook misses you, they said. I want to die, I said. But did anybody hear me? No because I’m a psycho that talks to himself.” Anger flashed before his eyes and with a clenched jaw, he threw the bottle across the room and watched  it as it shattered into a million little pieces. It cascaded down to the floor like glass rainfall, little of what alcohol it contained following in suit. His hands trailed up and carded themselves in his hair, tugging aggressively and he began to blink back his tears. He was beyond frustrated with himself. Crying was a sign of weakness. He is not weak. Pathetic maybe, but weak is not something he liked to associate himself with. Angry tears streaked down his face and his hands pulled his hair back, forcing his head to tilt with it. “God, I’m such an idiot. I can’t even-” Broken cries erupted from his mouth and hiccups shot apart his sentences. Dull nails raked at his arms, leaving white lines and a red mess upon his canvas of a skin. He considered downing another bottle but what was the point? To die young? To ruin yourself night after night? Yoongi couldn’t recall the last time he was sober for even a day. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it. The voices in his head grew louder. He grit his teeth together before biting out words directed at no one.

 

“Shut up.”

 

The bottle clicked open with an almost euphoric hiss and he was back at square one.

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________

 

The sunlight barely made it through his dark curtains and all Yoongi could think of was getting to a basket of some sort to throw his insides up. It was a routine. Wake up, run to the nearest bathroom and regret everything you did the night before. The acidic substance left his body almost as fast as the alcohol had entered. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he let the warm water flow out of the faucet and into his free hand, bringing it to his mouth, recoiling ever-so-slightly. His reflection glared back, dark eyes clouded with confusion in the cracked mirror. His phone read 9:17 am but his head felt like it was sometime between forever and never.

 

Yoongi chewed his lip and pushed himself out the bathroom door.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Jin was a liar. He was such a liar. Going outside will be better, he had told him. Your therapists said so. Well, Yoongi’s therapists also said his anxiety would get better. And did it? They were all liars. The streets of Seoul were a lot louder than he thought. Only red lights shone upon him at night but in the middle of the day… It was pretty overwhelming. Like being exposed to everything at once. Cherry blossoms floated down like ragged leaves in autumn, falling gently as if they had full choice to control their path. They landed everywhere and frankly, no one was annoyed by them, no matter where they placed. Everywhere he turned, bright stores blasted out the most popular songs at the moment, not a single empty space spotted. Little kids ran around, pestering their mothers and even with the smiles on their faces, Yoongi knew they needed a lifelong coma to get back the sleep their children took from them. He’d assume he looked the same. Except the mothers had a reason and he was just sorry for himself. Yoongi’s weary eyes darted around before rushing into an empty coffee shop.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Three coffees and a cookie later, he was about to explode from sugar. It was nice though, all the sweetness giving Yoongi a short period of bliss. He finally figured it out. Or, some of it at least. It was progress. People forget things in different ways. Some take therapy and actually make it out a different person. Some indulge themselves in endless heaps of food and sugary sweets to expand their bodies to fill where their heart used to be. And some take Yoongi’s path. Drugs and alcohol, anything and everything to make them forget about their past in the worst way possible. His fist clenched over the paper coffee cup and he stared at the red and white flesh that gripped the beverage, a notification pinging quietly. He released his death grip to grab the phone, staring at the text message.

 

Jungkook: Hey, Yoongi! Want to grab some coffee? It’s 10:37 and I don’t even know if you’re awake yet, but Jin said you should be. Or at least he had hoped. This message is getting long, so just message me back if you want to. I’ll meet you here, okay?

 

Attached to it was a small map of the location and even though Yoongi had downed too much caffeine already, he decided he had nothing else to lose.

 

Yoongi: Yeah… Sure. Why not.

 

Read, 10:39.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

 

He had found Jungkook tapping his fingers on the oak coffee table at the back of the shop, white teeth ling nervously on his bottom lip. Being alone gave Yoongi a lot of time to sharpen up on his cold reading. It helped that Yoongi knew Jungkook inside out, still remembering every little thing the younger boy had told him from high school. Slipping quietly into the chair in front of him, he mustered up a small smile and pushed the potted plants’ leaves away from his face.

 

“Hey,”

 

Jungkook looked up at him and Yoongi found himself speechless. He couldn’t even catch a glimpse of the other boy at his party last night, anxiety taking the better of him, causing Yoongi to leave before he could even speak to anyone besides Jin. He never changed. Not once. His hair was still as messy as ever and his voice was still the same voice that whispered I love you in Yoongi’s ear in the dead of the night. Jungkook let out a wavering laugh. “You look… Different. But a good different. It’s… It’s really nice to see you again.”

 

Yoongi wanted to believe his words were fake but everything he could calculate about the boy across from him was completely genuine, from his hazy brown eyes, to his bright red lips that twitched up in a smile. A sigh slipped out of the caffeine-filled boy and out of the corner of his eye, he could barely make out a frown. “I’ve missed you… A lot.”

 

“Are you okay Yoongi?”

    

Why wouldn’t I be? Yoongi asked himself. You have a kid and a girlfriend. You used to be my boyfriend. You told me you’d never leave. You lied. Everybody lied. No big deal.

 

“I’m great. How’s your…” He clenched his jaw and spat out the rest of his sentence. “How’s your kid and your girlfriend?” Jungkook’s eyes widened and he tried to play it off but he couldn’t keep anything from Yoongi. “Oh… She’s… Well, Paige’s three years old now and Irene… She’s… She’s been doing… She’s fine.” The pink-haired boy found his small hands tangle in the grey cotton sweater material and he bites his tongue to prevent himself from blurting out profanities directed at the girl he had just mentioned.

 

“You know I never planned the kid, right?”

 

Yoongi shook his head. “So she was an accident. A mistake. Have fun telling her that when she’s thirteen.”

 

“Yoongi, I’m sorry.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For messing up.”

 

“That’s a stupid thing to apologise for.”

 

“But I’m sorry.”

 

“Sorry won’t fix me.”

 

“I can fix you.”

 

“No you can’t.”

 

“I can try.”

 

Yoongi’s eyes stung sharply and Jungkook didn’t want to look up.

 

“Really?”

    

“Really.”

 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Jungkook had informed Yoongi that he was staying over at his apartment for a week the same day. Of course, Yoongi had panicked and almost broke down in the middle of the street, but Jungkook just grabbed him and ran. Yoongi tried not to think too much on how it was déjà vu, bringing him back to senior year.

 

It was 9:51 PM when Jungkook came back from the store.

 

“So, I bought five packets of Top Ramen, a pack of Red Bull, Maltesers, which by the way, are really expensive and not even that tasty, so why would you-”

 

“Jungkook, just give me the candy.”

 

Tossing the red packet to the older boy, he flopped down on beside Yoongi on the couch, faintly hearing the crinkle of the plastic bag being split open. The quiet crunch of the wafer ball came along with his next words. “Did you tell Irene yet?”

 

Jungkook scoffed. “Of course I did. She’d kill me if I didn’t. She’d hit me either way but better for her to know now than to run over here and slap me in front of you with a child draped across her arms.” The possibility of the scene made the two chuckle. “You know I don't have another bed right. I could sleep on the couch if you want. Been doing it a lot lately.”

 

Jungkook looked over and his tongue peaked out to wet his dry lips. “Having a lot of… Guests over?” Yoongi shrugged. If you count the guests in my head that have refused to leave for the whole twenty two years of my life span.

 

“Besides, I can always sleep with you. Like high school.”

 

Yoongi suppressed a smile and failed to maintain a glare at the nineteen year old. “Yeah, whatever. Like high school.”

 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Jungkook examines the other boy’s face in the pale moonlight that had managed to slip past the gaps left by the window curtains. Yoongi looked awful, to say the least. He had bags under his eye bags, something he used to only get every now and then, and even in his sleep he looked stressed. A finger danced across his eyelid and Jungkook could feel the tiny puffs of air on his own skin. The hair on the back of his neck stood tall, most of his body out from under the covers, afraid of stealing the warmth from Yoongi.

 

“Jung… Kook?” A groggy voice rang out softly, almost childlike. Almost. Deep rasps of words escaped Yoongi’s mouth, only to be swallowed into Jungkook’s when he pressed their lips together.

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Forgetting Jungkook's girlfriend was like forgetting what day it was. You wouldn't think twice about it for a few hours but eventually, it finds its way back. Yoongi was torn between pushing Jungkook away and pulling him in closer, and he knew it was wrong but if this was wrong he's pretty sure he doesn't want to be right. It’s so cliche, that Yoongi has watched several movies with plots like this and they all ended up in happiness but this? This can only end up in ashes. Jungkook can live with that, he decides sometime before dusk. The balcony supported the weight Yoongi put onto it and every time Yoongi looked down, he could see a line of smoke drift off to wherever the wind took it. Jungkook watched the boy hang his head down and he could almost imagine the pitiful smile on his face. The white cigarette was grasped limply between his middle and index finger, bubblegum pink hair sticking out in different directions, contrasting with the yellow sun trying it’s best to burst out behind the dark clouds.

 

“Hey, Yoongi?”

 

The boy on the balcony looked behind him, eyes tired and lifeless like he hasn’t slept for days. “Yeah?” His voice came out weak, and nothing like Jungkook thought it’d sound like.

 

“Why do you smoke?” The question was innocent, just like he was. Yoongi couldn’t stifle a dry chuckle.

 

“If I can’t kill myself, I can help the process go faster.”

 

Jungkook paused. “Why… Why can’t you kill yourself?”

 

Yoongi couldn’t answer him. Instead, the other boy quickly filled the silence.

 

“You know, you never did tell me what happened to your scars.” Jungkook tried to lighten up his sentence with a small smile but it didn’t mask the true meaning behind it. Sitting down slowly onto the kitchen chair, Yoongi leaned against the table and didn’t respond, not knowing how to address it.

 

“You’re so blunt, you know that?” He had said at last. An artificial smile was etched onto Jungkook’s face, unfazed.

 

“Answer my question Yoongi.” The older of the two pursed his lips, annoyed face hiding his racing heartbeat. Yoongi rolled up his left shirt sleeve, a wordless answer. The pink scar ran vertically down his arm, prominent and unforgiving. You couldn’t ignore it if you tried. The fabric was yanked down faster than it was pulled up and Jungkook couldn’t swallow the hot lump in his throat. “You scared me. A lot, you know?”

 

“I know.”

 

“Don’t do that again.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Just okay?”

 

“I guess.”

 

Jungkook didn’t believe him. Yoongi knows he doesn’t believe him. They don’t speak about it again for the rest of the day. Yoongi’s thankful.

 

That night was spent in a reminiscent state, cringey love letters spewn across the white carpet. Stomach down onto the bed, Jungkook winced, reading the pages’ words aloud.

 

“‘You’re the ice to my cream, the sun to my moon, and I have no idea what I’d do without you’. Oh my God, what was I thinking?” Groaning into the palm of his hand that had collided with his face, he vaguely heard Yoongi laugh.

 

“Yeah, what were you thinking? High school you was the cheesiest.”

 

“Hey, look who’s talking Mr. ‘I like you more than naps’. At least I was somewhat romantic.” Exclaimed the blushing boy, finger pointed directly at his counterpart. A ‘shut up’ was muttered and Jungkook smiled in triumph. Yoongi sat down cross-legged on the floor, a pencil and notebook situated on his lap, shading at nothing to no end.

 

“What’re you doing?” Rolling over, Jungkook’s breath hitched at the sight. What he had previously thought of as sounds of unimportant scribbles bloomed into something he hadn’t regretted in that pile of paper. “I thought… I thought you would’ve thrown it out by now…” He took the paper away from Yoongi’s hands, making room for him on the bed as he moved his own body over.

 

“Why would I throw it out?” asked Yoongi, climbing up beside him.

 

“Because it’s… So… I don’t know.” The rough texture of the water colour paper he had snatched from his not-so-happy art teacher back in junior year felt soothing under his thumb, rubbing lightly. Previously wet and watery paint had soaked into the canvas, lilac cherry blossoms put in most random but precise places and then there were two shadowy figures fixated splat in the middle. The fading pink and yellow sunset allowed the black to stick out like a sore thumb and Jungkook finally remembered what he had drawn. It was them. You are so cheesy, he scolded himself mentally. The two watercolour figures were close enough that they had to be coloured in together as well and the thought made Yoongi smile.

 

“I really…”

 

Jungkook swallowed thickly and couldn’t find the words to finish his sentence. He decided actions spoke louder than words and leaned in quickly, brushing his lips against Yoongi’s like the night before but this time, Yoongi was awake enough to stop him.

 

“You have a girlfriend.” He whispered scarcely, “And… And a kid that still needs you. We can’t-”

 

“Hey, hey, stop. Let’s just… Let’s just forget about them for now, yeah?” Jungkook twisted his head down to try and attempt to look at the sorrowful boy and all he could see was guilt. Desperate pleas rushed out quickly. “Baby, please.”

 

Yoongi took a shaky breath. “You’re cheating on her.”

 

“I love you.”

    

“This is wrong.”

 

“You love me too.”

 

“This is wrong.” He repeated quietly but firmly.

 

“But I,” Jungkook held Yoongi’s chin gently and stared intently into his eyes. The last part of his string of words came out in a whisper, barely loud enough for anyone to hear.  

 

“I love you.”

 

Fear was laced into Yoongi’s eyes and you could hear a pin drop in the echoey room. “Irene loves you too.” What is he doing? Defending the girl he previously hated solely because Jungkook was dating him. This is so stupid but Yoongi knows what’s right and this was anything but. The boy shook his head profusely like a child and he felt Jungkook’s fingers let go of his chin. Yoongi watched as he got up, footsteps muffled against the fabric.

    

“Jungkook, where’re you going?” A petite and fragile voice rang out.

 

Hand on the doorknob, he didn’t respond.

 

“Stay,” Yoongi’s voice croaked, disheveled hair hiding his teary eyes. “Please.”

 

Jungkook turned his head back just a bit, enough to see the older’s form. Gritting his teeth, he spoke.

 

“I’ll be back.”

______________________________________________________________________________________________

 

He didn’t come back.

    

Yoongi waited and waited, pacing back and forth, back and forth, repetition piled over repetition and he thought maybe, just maybe, Jungkook would come back, dead of the night all happy and ready to say something along the lines of an apology. He remembered that Jungkook had nothing to apologize for and soon dropped the idea. Yoongi was all alone. A relapse. From what? He couldn’t tell. Drinking? Drugs? Both? He couldn’t tell and the draft he was creating didn’t help either. Yoongi couldn’t stop his body from shaking and a million little thoughts crashed upon him. “No” became his saviour word, repeating it like a mantra and as if the air was stolen from his lungs, he couldn’t find the energy to fight for his breath back. Short, sharp breaths couldn’t match the oxygen Yoongi’s body needed and he felt his body heat up and cool down over and over again. He didn’t like this feeling. His hands ran up to clutch his heart and he felt like throwing up, except this time it wasn’t because of alcohol.

 

“Nononono, I don’t like this, please, please, please go away, nonononono-” Yoongi helplessly sobbed and all he could think about was how pitiful he probably looks. Crying over someone who doesn’t care about him enough to stay. His throat burned and he felt like his words were being ripped from him.

 

“Goawaygoawaygoaway, pleasepleaseplease, goawaygoaway-” Gut-wrenching cries burst out of his shaking form and he pushed himself out of his bedroom that he had trapped himself in for hours. Yoongi could barely see through the darkness but he was determined enough to take all the bruises it took. Despondent, he shoved open the bathroom door and smacked his hand on the wall, lighting up his face in the fragmented mirror. His face was slightly distorted and he could see how red his eyes were behind the saltwater tears. He blindly searched for what he was looking for and he couldn’t stop his mouth from running. Even in times like this, he can’t even-

 

Oh.

    

Yoongi clicked open the bottle of antidepressants, tylenol, and advil all mixed up into one. Pouring the pills into his quaking hand, he choked them down. Coughing huskily, he took one last look in the mirror before waiting for the end of his story to kick in.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Waiting for death was probably the most painful thing ever. This was a bad way to go, Yoongi thought. His body had collapsed on the bathroom tiles a long time ago, limbs too numb to move and motivation long gone. His heart went from face to slow in a matter of seconds and if it weren’t for his mind fighting back, he would’ve been gone a long time ago. Stupid brain. Over the past hour, he kept asking himself one question. Was this all a mistake? It almost felt like he was falling asleep. Drifting off peacefully and then waking up to a falling sensation. A bitter taste assaulted his mouth and he felt everything shut down one by one.

 

His legs,

 

arms,

 

lungs,

 

eyes,

 

heart.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

 

“I don’t understand! What does he have that I don’t?” Irene pushed Jungkook back, rage and desperation pulsating from her body. Jungkook learned something in the past week. Everyone was desperate. For something. For everything. For nothing. They were all desperate. Irene was no exception.

 

“Irene, I swear, if Paige hears us-”

 

“What does it matter?” Spitefully insane laughter was shot at the boy, “At least she’d know the truth. You can’t leave me. We have a kid together. She needs you in her life. If you leave right now, you’ll ruin her.”

 

Jungkook resisted the urge to slap her right then and there. “You don’t even care about her. You just want eye candy. You just want to prove your parents wrong. You want them to believe that everything’s fine. But guess what Irene? Everything’s not fine!” He slammed his hands on the marble counter separating them. Her body went rigid, eyes shut tight as if she was waiting for the blow. Regret threaded through Jungkook but he was too angry to care. Slowly opening her eyes, the raven-haired girl revealed her pale green orbs.

 

“But Paige,” She croaked. Jungkook felt his beating heart clench and all he could think about was Yoongi. How they sounded scarily similar at their most vulnerable times. He stared at her, his lips, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t make her cry.

 

“I’m sorry.”

______________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Most nineteen year-old boys spend their Friday nights at frat parties, video games, hooking up with girls, but Jungkook? He spent it at the hospital. Waiting, wondering how he’s ever going to survive without Yoongi. He wasn’t dead yet, but he isn’t exactly alive either. He was in an in-between stage where the doctors didn’t know whether to apologize for his loss or to tell him that there was no need for tears. That’s what he hates about hospitals. The doctors and nurses and employees; they can apologize, but no matter how convincing they are, you know they don’t mean it. It’s another life, thrown into someone else’s land, it’s meaningless to them. They’re meaningless to them. The anxiety curled in his stomach and it was 1:15 am when the doctors spoke to him. Jungkook stared them down as the man calmly walked down the hall.

 

“Family of… Yoongi Min?”

 

Jungkook pursed his lips. Where’s the excuse of a family Yoongi has? Not here. Of course. “I’m…” He picked his words carefully. “His boyfriend. I’m his boyfriend.”

 

The doctor raised an eyebrow before hesitantly nodding, clipboard held in his hands. “Well, he’s all right.”

 

Oh God, he’s okay. He’s okay, Jungkook stop worrying. A relieved smile floated ashore but it all came crashing down soon enough.

 

“But, he’s still in critical condition. He’s awake, but everything he consumed has damaged his most vital organs. He’ll be undergoing surgery but we have no guarantees of his survival and-”

 

“Can I talk to him?” Jungkook didn’t let him finish, too impatient to do so. “Please.”

 

Slightly annoyed, the doctor cooperated nonetheless and lead him to Yoongi. The room he was in gave Jungkook goosebumps, uncomfortable with all the white and blue. The door clicked close behind him, and surely enough, Yoongi was there. His unsteady eyes focused and unfocused, cloudiness draining from them as soon as they caught sight of Jungkook. His mouth gaped open like he was trying to speak and the boy rushed over in a hurried pace.

    

“H-Hey,” Yoongi’s voice was gravelly and rougher than Jungkook thought it’d be. Just by looking at him, he knew the bedridden boy was suffering, fighting to talk. There were no words to describe how mad Jungkook was at how idiotic the other could be. Not wanting to make this worse, he instead let his feelings out another way.

 

“You promised me you wouldn’t do this.” Jungkook looked weakly at Yoongi and his child-like eyes widened, grief sewn in his face. Silence cascaded down them like a waterfall and this time, it wasn’t because he was struggling to speak. It became clear that Yoongi couldn’t respond to him.

 

“Are you… Going to be all right…?”

 

Yoongi sufficed a laugh before coughing hoarsely. “Sure?” He glanced up at the other through his bangs, “If it makes you feel better, yeah, of course. We can ride off into the sunset together, happily ever after.”

 

Jungkook shook his head and stared at Yoongi. He shifted uncomfortably and forced his next words out.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Yoongi glanced at him with fearful eyes and he let a small smile out, to reassure Yoongi even if he couldn’t reassure himself. Taking his hand in his own, Jungkook leaned in close, like he did a few hours ago.

 

“I have good news for you.”

 

Cocking his head to the right, he made the wires adjust to his new position. The heart monitor raced faster and he fought the aching pain in his chest.

 

“What…” His voice dulled to a whisper, “What is it?”

 

“I broke up with her.”

 

Yoongi felt his stomach twist up into little knots and he felt like they were never going to go away.

 

“Irene?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“For me?”

 

“For you.”