Chapter Text

Chapter 5

With Heaven comes along Hell. 

Now, all relationships aren't perfect. Everyone of them has a flaw attached to it, a single Achilles heel that lays hidden underneath the happy surface just waiting to be triggered at any given moment when you’re at your most vulnerable, when you’re wanting and wishing to be understood yet a certain barrier has slowly, and unknowingly to you, began to sprout between you and the rest of the world creating a void that separates you from everything you’ve ever come to know. 

It hasn't always been perfect for these two. With many years comes many hardships, that's true, but there are also many battles from within. Yoongi and Namjoon may have grown together, but it does not hide the fact that they are quite different personality wise. While Namjoon was rather calm and sensitive, letting many people walk over him simply because he never wanted to anger anyone, never wanted anyone to feel displeased with him. He was generally weak-willed but passionate, thriving to reach his goals even if it did end up leading him to a darkened path that ultimately caved in on him. He would normally let loose to the events happening around him, too weary and tired to do much of anything. He’d end his days feeling spent, body moving slowly in a lethargic manner as to avoid much of any attention. However, Yoongi was rather different than him. It took Namjoon many tries and many years to finally breach the thick surface of who Yoongi truly was but even then, he never really understood him; his antics, his habits, or his desires. It was all so confusing and mysterious to Namjoon, who Yoongi really was and all. No matter what he tried, he would never know what Yoongi would ever think or feel. 
Min Yoongi is one stubborn nut, refusing to crack no matter how often someone knocks on his shell. Coming into close contact only makes him recede deeper into his comfy, little cavern within his mind. Min Yoongi is not one to talk much, not one to show his feelings directly at all. He keeps his mouth shut and his thoughts firmly sealed because doing anything else seems like a drag. Yet at times, he goes as far as to wonder if he even has any thoughts at all from all the times he chose to push everything to the back of his mind. There are times when he feels so empty it often makes his question if anything around him is actually real, or if he’s just hallucinating, making up scenarios just to make himself appear happy and somewhat sane to himself. The core of his heart and mind would forever be impenetrable, no matter the cost, because getting caught in someone’s web of lies would only cause him to feel pain and heartbreak, something that made his blood boil at the thought of it. Yet, it would end up costing him so much more than he’d thought. 

Min Yoongi isn't very common, he is a very rare case in Korea. For the most part, Korea's society refuses to deny his existence as well as the existence of others exactly like him. They are living in plain view yet invisible to those around them. 
At first he may seem casual--normal-- just like every other Korean male in their 20's. Yet when they speak to him, the spark ignites in their sub conscience, noticing the unnoticeable to the eye. He is empty, as empty as a long forgotten cave. No amount of light bleeding into the bleak chamber-like prison cave leaving it completely darkened with nothing ahead nor behind. Yet deep in said cavern, there lay a warm luminous candle-like light flickering oh-so softly, desperately fighting to stay alit. There was no more hope for the weakening light, with cold whisks of air punching and beating and blasting against the dying glow. The light had given up its desire to shimmer alone in the dark. A light trail of ashened grey whirled in the blackened sea, leaving its trail of tears before finally vanishing into the vast nothingness. There was a lack of emotion in Yoongi that may have steered people away for it frightened them to meet someone so hollow inside and out, it was like conversing with a wall, only getting the occasional blink and grunt. Once they looked deep into his empty eyes, seeing nothing but endless black cradled amongst black that was never ending... They all seemed to steer away from him, the infamous Min Yoongi, just like the great black plague. Not even his own parents, who bore him, brought him into this world, and shaped him into the young man he was today would ever truly love him for who he was. There was nothing… Nothing to love in him. He was only a boiling pit of anger, bubbling and gurgling underneath the surface before finally erupting, resulting in an upscale disaster and they all saw that, and only that.

---

“Min Yoongi,” a slender, fair-skinned woman with owl-like glasses called as she read down a list of names printed so delicately along a white sheet of paper. 
It was the beginning of his last year of Junior High, and he was dreading the entire day the exact moment he laid eyes upon the towering, brownstone building. He lifted up a lazy hand and gave an unsatisfied grunt in indication that he was present, quickly pulling it down and burying his head in his arms in an attempt to block out every insignificant thing, and person, around him. In doing so, he only brought attention to himself further for he was seated right in the middle of the classroom, dead center where everyone could see-- especially the teacher. Said action only resulted in a scowl to appear on the teachers face, the corners of her red-tinted lips sinking into her face in irritation, her eyebrows knitting together creating heavy folds on her forehead representing all of the years she had spent teaching troublesome students.

“Now Min Yoongi, that is very rude of you to do! Please, lift your head up or else I will have to send you out. It’s only your first day, and,” she paused, “You wouldn’t want to give yourself a record so early on.” She crossed her arms in attempt to look confident and threatening, to say ‘I’m the teacher, so you better listen.’ He hated that about people. He hated almost everyone in that room. People wanted his respect without having earned it, without giving him a single reason to respect them. They had to gain it; had to work for it. ‘What a ,’ he thought to himself as he closed his eyes and continued to sink into his arms. ‘I won't see you in a year, why would you matter to me? You're nothing, you old hag. Leave me the alone.’ 
Yoongi never said what he truly wanted to say aloud, that would only cause problems, and problems were troublesome. He always decided to bite his tongue and take whatever came his way. The only thing he ever wanted to do was relax, but no one ever let him have what he wanted. They always pushed his buttons and nagged, ed, whined, yelled against his ear over the most mundane things with rabid high-pitched voices that threw his head into a spiraling tornado that only seemed to go faster and faster with each ignorant word that was thrown at his direction. 
“Min Yoongi! I will not repeat myself anymore! Lift your head and look forward or else I will send you to the head office and have a chat with your parents!” Her words only made him grow angrier, the frustration grew and grew, planting seeds of rage and letting them sprout through his body, making him sink his chipped nails into his arms in order to keep himself grounded and sane for a moment longer. ‘Stop ing with me . Stop. Keep your damn mouth shut before I ing pop.’ His breathing grew harsher, dragging a ragged breath slowly through his nose before exhaling through his lips. ‘Please just leave me alone. I'm not doing anything! My being here isn't distracting anyone else here, just ing do your job.’  Why must people pick on him of all people? It's It's as if he had a red bullseye directly at the top of his head. He never asked to be the center of attention so often. People often told him things he never asked to hear, they would simply see him there and constantly blab about secret after secret because he'd listen. He was easy prey. He'd let himself be the prey in order to avoid any nasty business, but he couldn't handle it much any longer. Why him? Why only him of all the people on Earth? The thread of patience that grew thinner with each passing school year finally burst with a silent cry seemingly echoing throughout the silenced room. 

“ off,” he finally said aloud, crushing through the silent barrier. Those around him were shocked with his prude behavior, they were all accustomed to following with conformity. No one in their right mind would disobey their teacher so freely. They all fit that perfect silhouette of star students who obeyed their teachers, parents, and anyone who seemed to be older and above them. But Yoongi had finally snapped, doing something they all wished to do yet were too cowardly to be the first to do. 

It was a ticking time bomb that had finally reached the end of the timer. 

The frown on the teacher's face sank deeper, almost leaving a permanent mark of sagging wrinkles and crevices. Her fingernails so finely manicured and pointed tapped repeatedly against her desk before she set down her glasses, hands setting on her hips as she seemingly grew twice in size with self pride. “Would you like to repeat that once more?” she cocked her eyebrow slightly, waiting for the moment where she could unleash all of the accumulated stress of so many years onto this one student. 

That's what they all did. Teachers. They would choose a specific student who would never fight back, never have the guts to risk their reputation, and catch them on a bad day where they would hound them down until they finally snapped. Then they threaten them because that's what teachers could do, they had the authority and no one would stop them. Yoongi really hated people like that. Those who would step on people just because they seemed to be below them and because they thought they wouldn't get hurt. It's more likely to side with a teacher than an insolent student, right? 

He barely met this yet he already hated her. He knew she wanted him to snap, he saw the way her eyes glistened tauntingly as if to say ‘Do it,’ just waiting for the right moment where she could unleash her own pent up anger, then she could say it was all his doing and pretend to be an innocent teacher of this awfully rude student with manner and temperament issues. 
He bit his lip yet he couldn't contain it anymore. He didn't want to give in to her game yet it slowly overtook him like a drug running through his veins and poisoning him with the worst poison of all; hatred. 

“I said,” he spoke in a low tone, slowly lifting his upper body to look directly at her, “ off you old hag. What? Do you need a Q-tip or something? Want me to speak slower?” He laughed half heartedly, throwing glares at her as they stared each other down. “Or do you not understand Korean? Is that it? No wonder you seem like such a ty teacher already.”

He scoffed, roughly pushing his desk away from him as he quickly stood causing his seat to fall behind him. His fists curled and uncurled as he glanced around the classroom noticing how they all had their eyes on him and only him. Those dull, lifeless eyes staring wide and shamelessly at him, silently screaming in excitement just waiting to see what he’d do next. They all sat at their desks as frozen as statues with limp arms splayed across the top of their desks. They all looked so pathetic to him. Yet as he looked at every familiar face in that classroom from years of living in the same town, going to the same school, there was a certain feeling that grew in the pit of his chest, a burning sensation that only throbbed and spread throughout his chest entirely. It felt like the world was caving in on him. He no longer wanted to be there around those hypocrites, those dumb asses. He didn't view himself as above them, no that's not the case. He just hated how fake it all was. They were all living lies and no one wanted to break away from the tight hold that retained them from moving towards a better life, a better beginning. 

But he had enough already.

 

He stormed out of the room as his teacher began with another attempt to speak, her thin lips parted halfway from forming a word as she was left dumbfounded with the sound of the classroom door shutting with a loud bang.

 

That would be the first time among many times were Min Yoongi would fight against the grip that had held him tightly for so many years. He would no longer be anyone’s silent slave. He would always own himself and no one else would dare take that away from him, be it his teachers, his classmates, or even his parents.

 

His father wouldn't be very pleased with his sudden newfound attitude and desire for rebellion, though. Mr. Min was a strong man who lead his family with an iron fist as the head of the Min househould was accustomed to throughout his entire life, so when his youngest son had suddenly decided to go against everything he had ever thought him it was not taken very well.

---

 

After making his way out of the classroom, Yoongi didn’t have a clue as to where he was to go. He was completely and utterly lost as he walked down the empty sidewalk of his beloved hometown of Daegu. The black streets and the stores that aligned them were nearly empty, something that was quite common during the grey early mornings as people were already settled into their dull jobs and classrooms while others were still peacefully in a deep slumber at home.

Then there was Yoongi, a young teen simply wandering the streets like a lost puppy, completely oblivious as to what he should do next. He didn't want to stay stuck in that hell hole of a school any longer but he's never exactly done this before. He wasn't much of an extroverted person for he prefered laying in bed either sleeping or listening to some music. Believe it or not, he was quite the fanatic of classical music and would spend hours upon hours laying in his bed, humming to the tunes of violins and violas and basses stringing along in their lovely songs. He didn't exactly fit the role of a rebel afterall. He hadn't known what finally came over him and it was very much beginning to eat him away. He was used to getting angry at ignorant, dumb people over the pettiest things, but it was odd for him to finally snap like that. He was used to finding alternatives to unleash his pent up anger. Some healthy while others… weren't exactly the prettiest nor did his body appreciate them-- the cuts that lingered along his creamy inner thighs and occasionally his abdomen, or even when he’d tug at his hair a bit too forcefully causing a major headache later on in the day.

 

Yoongi, being small in stature and all, always seemed to bring much unwanted attention to himself from such a young age no matter how much he tried to curve it, it would always follow him. He was a petite male with a pretty face, a cute button nose and sweetly pink tinted lips being just a few of the features that adorned and fit him wonderfully. Sometimes people would even confuse him as a girl if they didn't look at him long enough, which greatly pissed him off as he got older. He was who he was, never mix that up. Yet those things weren't as bad as what most people did to him when he reached Junior High. Those were sweet compared to the heavy his classmates made him go through, years and years filled to the brim with dark memories that haunted him late into the night when no one was around.

 

All the girls in his classroom thought he was adorable at first, and he appreciated it. He wasn't too keen on his looks nor did he care if anyone liked him or not, but getting the occasional compliment was nice. However, he'd tend to over hear things much crueler coming from the girls as school went by nearing his second year. Some would say they were envious of his legs, of his pretty lips, of his overall small and delicate appearance to the point of wondering if he was truly a male. He was completely dumbfounded when he heard that! He was nothing but a boy and he's always been. They've known him for years yet suddenly decided to doubt that? He remembers one day in particular that really pissed him off and pushed him nearer to the brink. He was casually eating his home brought lunch in his classroom when he happened to overhear a large sort of commotion coming from the girls, hearing the girls talking gleefully amongst their friends wasn’t anything new but Yoongi had suddenly heard his name being brought up by one of the girls.

 

“That min Yoongi is such a cutie isn't he? I wish I could look like him…” he overheard one girl in particular among a large group of girls sitting around during their lunch time, a girl whom he believed to have played with him in Primary school, a girl named JaeJima.

 

“I know right! I'd die for his pale skin,” a tall girl continued.

 

“It's so unfair, I wish I was that cute…”

 

“His slim legs are to die for, don’t you think?”

 

“He's cute and all, but you know what I think?” a dark haired girl said as she leaned in eagerly while disregarding the cardboard box of juice in her hands, a girl who went by the name of JiHyo whom had a nasty interest in gossip.“ I heard he isn't actually a girl. Just look at him, doesn't he look-” She glanced around for a moment before continuing, leaning farther in, “like a tranny to you? He totally has that plastic surgery face trannies like.” She whispered softly between the other girls as they all gasped, all of their eyes going wide as they not so discreetly turned their heads to gape at Yoongi openly. Vigorously nodding their heads and gasping at their newfound realization. Hearing such an absurd rumor made Yoongi nearly sick. He quickly sent glares over to the noisy, loud mouthed girls who quickly retreated back into their seats once they noticed him yet did not exactly hide the fact that they were talking about him once more in hushed whispers but Yoongi decided not to care. His kimchi his mother lovingly prepared would go cold soon and he would rather enjoy it while it was still warm, so he took his chopsticks and continued stuffing his mouth with the delicious kimchi, rice, and occasional veggies.

 

The boys were the worst, though. The girls he could handle perfectly well, they were just regular dumb teenagers spreading rumors but the boys quickly changing hormones made their attitudes change far too greatly for Yoongi's liking. Many of his so called friends from primary school soon stopped talking to him by the beginning of the second year, calling him a girl, a girl stuck in a boy's body, or even a girl pretending to be a boy because he was just too pretty to be a REAL boy. He must have been lying to them for so many years, lying just so Yoongi could get closer to all the boys to get them to like him and ignore the rest of the girls, or to even report back to the girls on who they all liked! It was all too insane and plain out ing idiotic to Yoongi. They'd all seen him piss in the guys bathroom--using a urinal keep in mind-- and they still had the nerve to day he was a girl. For s sakes, how stupid could they get? What were they even feeding those idiots?

They all hated him because they said he was only there to tease them. He was so pretty and kissable, just overall tempting to them while he did what he normally did in school. They were angry at him for being cute because they all knew that in their minds they were straight, but here comes along a cute boy who looks like a girl now they're all confused. So, obviously someone had to pay for their confusion and unhappiness. Obviously it had to be none other than Yoongi himself. Yoongi had spent the last two years doing his best to hide from the boys, staying in a solitary bathroom or the occasional closet while taking extra precaution to ensure he would not be followed. There was even word out to jump Yoongi at one point. All the boys were too fed up so they wanted to teach him a lesson as to not ‘tempt’ them anymore which scared the living out of him. He never let their words get to him, but to actually plan out something where they’d assault him? That just crossed the line.

 

“If he's a guy like he says he is, he needs to start acting like a ing guy,” One boy with deep brown hair styled in a bowl cut frowned as the classroom boys played with a dirty soccer ball near the outside of their bland school. The skies turning a dark gray color signaling the changing of seasons yet the boys gave no thought of it as they played. “Just look at him, no guy is that neat and-and prissy!”

 

“Nah, I bet a whole month's allowance that he's a total sissy,” another boy with a very similar hairstyle, yet in black, said between ragged, sloppy bites of an apple, “He's a guy but wants to be a chick really badly. His parents just don't want him to get a surgery to cut his off too early.”

 

“How do you know that, wad?” The first boy asked accusingly. “Are you and Yoongi a thing or something, SamSoon?”

 

“N-No! Of course ing not!” SamSoon sputtered, nearly hacking up a bit of the apple he had been chewing with a slight drip of saliva slipping from his lips.“I hate that er, say that again and I’ll beat your .”

 

“Whatever you say,” his friend eye rolled as he kicked the ball a bit hesitantly as he saw something from the corner of his eye. He quickly turned his head, his eyes widening for a moment before a devilish grin grew upon his face. “How convenient… If you hate him so much, go get him then. He’s right over there waiting for you.” He signalled over with his head with a single jerk as Yoongi made his way out of their school building, backpack slung heavily over his shoulders while he had earphones silencing everything around him.

 

The two boys looked at each other with a detestable look that would send anyone running to the hills, a hidden glint in their eyes filled to the brim with nothing but mischief. They both left everything they were doing, forgetting all about the soccer ball while SamSoon discarded his half eaten apple. They jogged quietly behind Yoongi in order to get closer to him for he had gotten quite ahead of them while they had been playing around. The boys spoke to each other through their eyes, glancing and hinting at what to do and where to grab him before finally attacking like rabid animals, the true animals they were soon coming to light.

 

It was all quite a blur after that. Maybe Yoongi remembers, maybe he doesn’t. He just doesn’t want to think about that year for it was the worst thing to ever happen in his life. All he could truly remember were snippets of black and gray spinning and twirling around his as he flew across the land and sky. He hadn’t felt alive in that moment, and he had truly wished he never was in the first place. He was just cold from the feeling of hands across his arms and legs but he never went too deep into his memories. The clouded grey sky only seemed to grow inky with a certain lightness that had him feeling empty that day, as if he knew it were to happen.

 

But Yoongi doesn’t want to think about them anymore. He wants them all gone from his life for they have made it miserable enough. He didn’t need them anymore, nor did he need them in the long run. They were all just sort of… there, ever since the start. He never did belong with any of them. He always seemed to never belong or even feel connected to someone. Call him cold hearted or rude, but he would not deny the truth for the truth was all that he knew.

 

Yoongi quickly snapped out of his thoughts as he reached the intersection from the neighboring stores to his house. His house was tall and wide appearing to be nearly castle like, something very peculiar among the dainty family homes around them, with every inch colored a pale ivory white that glistened against the grimy sky making all those who came upon it stare up in awe, but not Yoongi for he knew what truly lied within those hollow, towering walls that seemed too suffocating to even look at.

 

The more he stared, the more Yoongi realized that there was a heavy weight lying at the pit of his core with each ticking second that passed by. He felt his head become cloudy with odd colored stars dancing around him, a tingling feeling running through the curve of his spine as if to signal something very off and unfriendly awaiting him the moment he stepped inside those doors, but he had no choice.  He had to face the man whom he called father. So, he took a step forward and walked towards a set of large coal colored doors that contrasted so greatly against the frosted paint being almost unnatural to the eye.

 

“Home, not so ing sweet home.”

 

He shouldn’t have gone home was the first thought that came to his mind.

 

Once Yoongi had walked past the heavy coal doors, he was bombarded with nothing but the thundering yelling of crude words directed towards him coming from none other than his own father, the great Min BeomSeok whom lead the Min household and all those under that name.

 

“Why was I called by your school so early in the morning? Do you not realize I had to cancel an important meeting to take that god forsaken call you good for nothing child. Now here you are, in front of me looking as pathetic as always,” he snarled bitterly as he ragged on and on like a furious… monster. Nothing less than that.

 

Mr. Min spared no mercy when it came to his children, nor anyone for that matter. He was quite quick in cornering an already worn out Yoongi against the coal door, hovering above him a couple of inches thus making his youngest look up at him in all of his immense glory. Yet he could do nothing but stare up at his father as glowered down at him with such a hate filled look, one that he had gotten far too accustomed too in his short life. He could do nothing but cower beneath his power, shrivel up underneath his heavy iron boot as his father squished and stepped and trampled on every mere part of what was left of his son, but what could he do? He couldn’t defy his father, the man who raised him, who fed him, who gave him the family he was in. He hated him with a boiling passion but he could do nothing which only caused him to hate himself further but he had no more energy to fight, no more to think, no more to feel anything at all.

 

“I'll teach you to never talk to a teacher like that ever again, you understand me you worthless mistake?”

 

‘Please, do teach me more. Teach me how to be a bigger ,’ he thought to himself, never having enough strength to talk back when it came to his father.

 

He let his father do as he wished with him no matter the case, even when he grabbed a hold of a large chunk of his hair and flung him into his room he did nothing. His father left him alone to curl into a small ball on the middle of his cold floor as he let the dark engulf him once more. Why did they choose him? He still could not understand everything that went around him, could not understand why it needed to happen, but he had no choice. Nothing but raging thoughts swam through his head, some in fear while most were in ferocious anger. He would have to go back to school the next day and the next, face the same taunting children and cruel teachers who could do away with him as he pleased and no one would care to look or glance. He could be screaming at the top of his lungs in a crowd full of people yet no one would dare to glance at him or say a word. He had had enough of them, so he made up a proposition with none other than himself--the only person he could truly trust in the damned world he lived in.

 

“The second I get to leave this place… I will, God I ing will. And I'll never look back,” he whispered quietly to himself as he arose from the floor, slowly and carefully to calm his shivering bones.

 

Glancing around the room it appeared to have grown dark outside, making him wonder how long he had been laying on the floor. “I couldn't have been here for that long… Maybe my eyes are just playing games,” he reasoned before hearing a soft rumbling at the pit of his stomach.

 

“....Or I might have actually laid there for... a while,” he said quietly into the darkened room while moving over to sit atop his bed, his body feeling unusually limp and flimsy compared to his usually sturdy way of carrying himself but he paid no bother. He was far too tired to care.

 

He pulled the soft blankets over his lax body and quickly fell into a deep and much needed rest. The whole world soon darkening around him, all of his cares meaning nothing once he was finally able to sleep in his familiar bed.

 

He awoke the next day to the sound of his alarm going off rabidly next to him,  a constant high pitched ringing next to his ear being quite difficult to ignore no matter how tired and worn out he felt. He was getting all too annoyed by it so he quickly decided to get up and turn it off, soon getting dressed in his normal school uniform without even bothering with doing his hair or stopping by the kitchen for breakfast. He didn't want to face his father again so he made his way out of the house and towards the wretched school once more.

 

He was quite surprised to see that his day wasn't as bad as he had expected, no one looked at him for too long other than the usual glances he was accustomed to and the teacher obviously picked on him more, which was a given, but it was all swell. He ate his lunch by himself as usual, the skies somewhat clearing from yesterday but there was still ate lingering dark cloud every now and then which had him… somewhat worried.

 

The day ended quickly, which Yoongi was quite grateful for. He therefore quickly gathered up all of his school work into his old bag and scurried on home as he usually did, not wasting a spare second in leaving the classroom to avoid anyone who might attempt to speak to him-- not like they ever did, but it was just to be safe.

 

Once he got home, he could still sense the tension in the cold, stiff air. Yet it was all normal, as sad as it was. It was something he had grown used to as he grew up for his family feared his father and his delicate behavior which had them all cowering at his feet.

 

Yoongi's father wasn't a fan of any sort of ruckus-- ever since he was a boy, Yoongi and his brother had to be careful as to not laugh too loudly, or play too recklessly because their father hated all of that. They could never be like the other children; they always had to be cautious as to not bother him in any sort of way.

 

So, Yoongi had to tiptoe his way across his living room as sly as a fox, careful to make his presence almost unknown to the others in the house. He prided himself on how easy it all came to him, how he could easily maneuver himself from one room to the other without being noticed. It was his own little gift, he thought. But as he was reaching his room, he heard someone call his name from the dining room.

 

His heart quickly sank as he recognized it to be his father's voice.

 

“Yoongi. Come here. I need to have a word with you,” The head of the household said sternly, his voice booming throughout the building.

 

Hesitantly, Yoongi turned towards the direction of the wall that separated his room from the dining room, taking a moment to exhale deeply before taking his first step towards it.

 

His heart appeared to be palpitating against his chest, the sound of his heart pumping blood throughout his body seemingly echoing in his ears as he dreadfully walked towards the dining room where he soon saw both his mother and father sitting across each other in their newly bought blackwood dining room table.

 

“You called me, sir?” He asked, cautiously nearing the table as his parents looked up at him.

 

Yoongi instantly looked at his beloved mother and immediately knew something was wrong.

 

There were tears b her beautiful, deep brown eyes, full of such sadness and despair that only grew sadder at the sight of her youngest. Yoongi could feel a large pang at his heart just at the sight of her, so feeble and worn from what he assumed to be from crying.

He swallowed an invisible lump in his throat as his eyes moved from his mother to his father, appearing hardened as stone in front of him.

 

“We need to talk,” was all he said as he motioned to the seat next to his mother.

 

Yoongi tentatively took a seat with thousands of thoughts running through his head.

 

What the hell could this be? They're looking at him as if he murdered someone and is getting locked up with a life sentence for s sakes!

 

“What-What is this all about? It's like I'm on trial right now.” He confessed, chewing on his bottom lip as he looked at his mother, not quite wanting to look at his father as he spoke.

 

Before he knew it, there was a palm pressed flat against his cheek for a few seconds before a burning sensation ran through his skin.

“How dare you keep this all to yourself for so long. Do you know how badly this could have tarnished our reputation? Don't you CARE about your family's well being, Yoongi?” His father angrily exclaimed, seemingly jumping from his seat to leap towards Yoongi.

 

Yoongi could do nothing but sit shocked out of his mind in his seat, his eyes immediately shooting towards his father who was blaring red in anger.

 

“What the was that for?! I didn't do , I never do yet you're always on my .” He yelled immediately as the shock died down soon being replaced by the same anger that overtook his father. Yoongi burst from his seat, one hand covering his stinging cheek. “Tell me what the I did wrong this time. Oh wait, it doesn't matter what I do because you always talk out of your and never listen to what I say.”

 

“Don't use that tone of voice with me young man, I'm your father and you're going to respect me-- whether you like it or not!” his father barked at him menacingly yet he did not back down as he normally would. “Without me, you'd be nothing but worse off pathetic waste than you are now.” Just being in the same room as this man made his blood boil to incredible levels. He hated him with such a passion no worse could ever truly capture it. With each word his father threw at him, he only seemed to grow more.

 

“Boo-ing-hoo. Respect my . You talk about all of this respect yet you don't even have the decency to respect your own family. Talk about contradictory, huh old man?” He chuckled bitterly, glancing over to his mother as she bursted out in tears.

 

Oh, how he loved her so much. How an angel would somehow end up with someone as barbaric as his father he'd never truly known.

 

“You're not ing worth listening to anymore. Hit me all you want, it's the only thing you actually know how to do,” Yoongi continued on before suddenly feeling the all too familiar tug on his hair as his father took a handful of it with his rough fingers.

 

“Listen here, boy. I own you. I created you and you live under my roof. Now we're not going to have a who thinks he can run his mouth all he wants living here, so you either straighten up or we're going to have to force you to listen like the good boy you are deep inside, do you understand?” His father clicked his tongue as he yanked the brown hair between his fingers roughly, sending shards of pain through Yoongi's skull causing him to flinch and bite his tongue, not wanting him to hear him and think he had the upper hand. no. He was going to get a really bad headache once this is over with-- if it ever ended, but there was no way in hell he was going to let his father get what he wanted.

 

But what hadn't fully registered in his head was what his father had uttered a few seconds ago. That word that so many people from school called him countless of times behind his back and, often enough, to his face.

 

‘.’ the word repeated itself like a broken disk in his mind until it finally clicked. ‘They finally figured it all out, huh.’ Guess there wasn't anymore use in hiding it from them now.

 

“Wow, dad. Great job at parenting” he said through gritted teeth, “You definitely deserve to teach some parenting classes with all of your skills.”

 

“Don't sass me, Yoongi. I want to know all about this talk about you being a sissy boy.”

 

Yoongi couldn't help but laugh, laugh a whole hearted laugh that seemed to bubble out of nowhere. “But dad, I thought you knew everything? You sure as hell seem like it,” he chuckled, only getting another hard tug of his hair in response.

 

“How could you do this to your family? To the people that raised you and taught you better than that. Look at your brother! He's a great kid with a great future and he has to deal with being associated with you, a ing ? Think about how that'll ruin him! Ruin me and my business!” he continued tugging relentlessly, his hand reaching down to force Yoongi to look at him, clasping down his rough fingers on Yoongi's jaw as if he were some… dog that needed to be taught how to obey.

 

“You have no respect for this family. You're a Goddamn disgrace to this family name.” Yoongi could do nothing but smile up at his father, the sound of his mother's wailing nearly blocking out everything his father hatefully spewed at him. When would his father understand that forcing control onto his children would never result in anything but hatred and resentment. He was who he was, and no one could change that. Yoongi would refuse to change for anyone, and if he had to build a wall to prevent anyone from reaching him, it would be okay with him.

 

“I am my father's child, afterall,” he said before he felt his father's hand leave his cheek, immediately causing him to close his eyes expecting to feel another burning sensation across his pink tinted cheek yet feeling nothing. He slowly closed his eyes, realizing that his mother had stood up, holding his father's hand in mid air before he could cause any further damage to Yoongi's face.

 

“Dear,” she whispered in a hushed yet shaky tone, “please, don't be so harsh on him. He's your son for God's sake, have some mercy!” she begged yet his father only swatted her hand away, releasing Yoongi's hair from his merciless death grip.

 

“I will not have my family be ridiculed by someone as pathetic as him. We'll be leaving by next week,” he deadpanned as he stared at his wife's angelic face soaked in tears before glaring at Yoongi once more, “You better not try any funny business, or I swear by god, you will see my wrath.” And that was that. His father dusted off his hands on his shirt as if he touched something tainted and walked calmly away, leaving his wife and a disheveled Yoongi in silence.

 

They stood in silence for what seemed like hours, Yoongi unable to tear his eyes away from the dining room table while seemingly inspecting the way the light glinted ever so lightly  against the deep colored wood. He couldn't believe that all happened in a span of a few minutes, the chaotic atmosphere seemingly dying out as soon as it began.

 

Suddenly, his mother spoke in her usual light, airy tone that immediately soothed his aching bones. “Yoongi, my angel,” she weeped as she wrapped her arms around his frame ever so carefully gliding her fingers against his face as if he were made out of glass. “I'm sorry I couldn't protect you better from him, I-I was shocked! I told him to be calm, but I couldn't fathom the thought of him behaving like that… My sweet child, mother is so sorry,” there were more tears soaking her pale skin as he looked down at her.

 

‘You've always let him do whatever he wants,’ he thought to himself while standing incredibly still, letting her touch his cheek even if it still stung horrendously, ‘even if he hurt you, you'd just blame yourself as always.’ Yoongi just stared at her as if she were a ghost, completely unphased by her actions. He knew that this was just a routine. She'd let his father do whatever he wanted to him, then she'd just be crying about how she couldn't help him, how she was too weak to do anything, how she was too scared or how she wished she could've done more but never did. She was pathetic. But he never said that to her, he listened to her cry for a little before slipping from her grip and escaping to his room because he knew by this point that she would always choose his father over her children. She was too wrapped around his finger to ever choose him before his father.

 

‘What a liar.’

 

Yoongi knew how weak his mother was both emotionally and physically, but he could never feel bad for her. She chose to be with a man that made her life a living hell, especially for her own son. If she truly loved Yoongi like she said she did, she would've been long gone since the day he laid a hand on him. But she didnt.

 

And he couldn't help but resent her for that for many years to come. He still loved her for she bore him but there would always be that lingering resentment that prevented him from ever pitying her and ever truly loving her wholeheartedly.

 

He soon slid into the cold sheets of his bed once more and fell into a deep sleep, ignoring the throbbing pain that seeped through his skull as best he could to escape his ill fated reality he was forced to live. The only thing he could do was wish for a different reality; something that would never come true.

 

---

 

The week after that specific incident flew by quickly. His mother nor his father uttered a word about that day to Yoongi or to his brother, and no one at school questioned the swelling of his cheek because no one bothered enough to care. Not even the so called social workers at school whom called out so eagerly to all the students exclaiming how they were everyone's friend seemed to care enough about Yoongi.

 

When he came home from school one day at the end of the week all of his belongings were already sorted and packed in random boxes scattered throughout his room as well as every other furniture in his house.

 

‘So this was what he was talking about…’ Yoongi thought as men carried all of the heavy furniture past the coal colored doors and into a large moving truck parked outside of their house. He couldn't exactly believe his father was so devastated about the news that his son was gay to the point where he decided to move to God knows where. He couldn't help but let out a laugh, a smirk plastered on his face as he found his way to the kitchen and got himself a popsicle as a snack, happily eating it as he watched the men do their work.

 

“Hey kid,” he heard from behind him and slightly jumped, taking a small bite from the popsicle before turning around to see his older brother sitting on a lone chair the men had yet to take away.

 

“Hey,” he said back questioningly. ‘I wonder if he's going to give me next.’

 

Yoongi's older brother was quite different from himself, it was almost impossible to know that they were related until later on. You see, Yoongi's older brother was much taller with toned features such as a strong jawline and heavily carved out cheekbones while his Adams apple proudly stood out as he spoke; he was what most would consider the ‘definition’ of what a man should look like. The only thing that Yoongi and he had in common were their surnames and their eyes; they both had their mothers dark colored eyes which were small but nonetheless beautiful.

 

“You know Yoon,” he started off with the familiar nickname his brother had given him years ago, back in simpler times where Yoongi could never properly finish his own name and his older brother about it soon having the name stick between themselves. “That right there-- In your hands-- happens to belong to me,” he pointed towards the half eaten popsicle in Yoongi's hands a slight smirk evident on his face.

 

Yoongi could help but laugh as he took another small bite from the popsicle as to not kill his sensitive teeth from the cold, “Hm,” he swished the piece in his mouth taking in the sweet artificial flavor, “I didn't see your name on it bro.”

 

“You little ,” his brother nearly hurled from his seat with a cheeky grin plastered on his face as he tried his best to wrestle the popsicle away from Yoongi, jokingly pouting and whining like a small child when Yoongi didn't budge.

 

Finally, someone who didn't see him as-- shameful, an abomination. Someone who actually welcomed him from his own town and family. He'd never fully admit this, but he loved his brother much more because of that. He was glad even if it was something so small and simple, he was able to see him as just Yoongi; his brother, without seeing anyone else.

 

Yoongi thought he'd be okay for a little while, as long as he had his brother and maybe, just maybe wherever they moved to someone else could understand that he's not any different than others at all.

 

He only hoped.

 

---

 

For that entire year, Yoongi and his older brother went from school to school; prestigious academies their parents had to pay for them to get in, religious schools, boarding schools, you name it and they probably went there for a few days. It was chaotic and disheartening, but then again Yoongi had a big fault in all of their moves.

 

He was determined to anger his father as much as possible because, just why not?

 

He didn't hide his like towards the same gender, maybe he wasn't as flamboyant as you might imagine but he was generally not afraid to answer their questions about being gay. Or maybe showing them a thing or two about how guys kiss-- just like any other person. Or how guys can cuddle-- just like any other person together.

 

He had never been a social butterfly and never would be, but he wasn't shy when it came to things like that so he had and fair share of ‘boyfriends’ that would cause his father to pack up and  leave to some other town where no one has ever heard of Yoongi or his family.

 

Yet Yoongi gave no bother, he was having fun. Of course he missed the friends he made that somewhat accepted the fact that he was who he was and no one was going to change that, but he quickly got over it saying they'd get over it in a few weeks, so he did as well. He wouldn't keep hold on any baggage that would only hurt him. It was Yoongi for himself.

 

Whenever he looks back, he wishes he never went speeding past life and past those who cared about him and his well being. He wish he had at least told them a ‘thank you’, before it was too late.

 

After a night of his usual promiscuous behavior, he had gone home late at night and was greeted with the sight of police cars at his house.  ‘Probably just dad being an again,’ was the only thought that came to mind as he walked up the front steps, not caring if it was way past his curfew.

 

What greeted him was a sight he was often used to but there was a darker feeling, a once familiar heaviness in the air that made his blood chill and body go limp once again. He immediately stood cold in his tracks as he stared at his mother sobbing into his father's shoulder, heart piercing screams falling one after the other from as if her soul had just been ripped out of her, her usually beautiful glowing face having gone a sickly gray tone while he body was weakly dangling against her husband.

 

Her husband. Yoongi's father. The toughests, cruelest man he had ever known to walk the Earth was in tears, letting silent cry pierce through the room. He was burying his face into his wife's hair as he held her tight, seemingly going smaller and smaller against her frame; deflating from the man he was.

 

That was when Yoongi knew. “Wheres my brother?” he shakingly asked, the words dry in his mouth as his parents only shrunk at the sound. It was something awful, something so sick he fell onto the floor without even knowing he did, an officer reaching out to ask if he was okay which seemed so blurry and fake in this fake reality, this nightmare, that was only an illusion. A sick joke on the family.

 

He looked up and noticed his father's lips parting with what he appeared to be his attempt of speaking to Yoongi, but he heard nothing. The world didn't spin or whirl sound him, it just stopped, everything freezing in place and going silent. It was the most deafening thing he'd ever heard in his life. The only person who accepted him in his daily life was gone, ripped from his palms.

 

His brother, his oddly kind and loving brother, was gone from this world. Everything he knew had shattered into black shreds of glass onto his feeble life.

 

Not even a few days passed and they were already packing all of their belongings. Everything except Yoongi's brothers room. Everything in that once bright room was kept exactly as it had been since that dreadful day, no one daring to go near it since there was still a presence in it that no one could explain. They all knew he was gone and yet… It didn’t feel right to move his things. They were all waiting for him to get home, so they left it as it was. They weren’t ready to let his memory die out, no it didn’t seem right but at the same time they didn’t want to be near that room which only caused pain to spring up from crevices they believed to be healed yet weren’t exactly mended all the way. So, they left that house once and for all, paying for it yet never living in it because they couldn’t bare with it.

 

It would never feel the same without his brother. It had taken a huge toll on everyone, not just Yoongi, but his parents as well. They had all grown distant and cold, the light seemingly draining even more from the already weakened flame. They were all practically strangers in that house, only roommates that occasionally had dinner together. His father had buried himself in work while his mother did god knows what, the marks on her neck not being a good sign but… Yoongi couldn’t say a word. It just wasn’t his place was his reasoning, and even if he did say something, what would it be? His mind would only go blank so he’d let her have her fun, whatever.

 

They kept on moving still, that was something that wouldn’t ever change-- or even the fact that Yoongi was quite promiscuous, something that also seemed to be more common after than incident. But one day, when they finally moved to Seoul after years of moving from town to town to town, he had found someone particularly… interesting.

 

He wasn’t charming or anything special in his eyes. Hell, he didn’t even find him all that attractive, but there was something that pulled him towards this… kid. A kid named Kim Namjoon he met once he went to some stuck up private school, a guy who he found out was two years yet managed to be in the same grade because he was some genius or whatever. He only seemed like a dork to Yoongi, a tall, clumsy, awkward little kid.

 

“Um… Are you sure you’re okay with us being friends and all?” Namjoon asked in a shy yet rushed tone a week after their sudden encounter with those idiots during lunch. In that week there were nearly inseparable as Namjoon showed Yoongi around their whole school and, more than occasionally, outside of it often going to different places like parks, arcades, and to the movies. “I don’t want to inconvenience you or anything. I mean, being associated with me isn’t exactly the best around here…” He lowered his head like a kicked puppy, chewing on his lip so nervously he tended to rip at the skin-- something which entertained Yoongi quite a bit. Namjoon was a tall guy, even if he was younger, so even as he bent down Yoongi still had to slightly look up at him causing him to directly looking at his plump lips that seemed beautiful in every way.

 

“If I cared about what people thought I would have left a long time ago, kid,” was the only thing he said to Namjoon, something simple that quickly replaced the worried look on Namjoon’s face with something he had never seen before… A look of adoration, a look filled with love and gratitude. A look no one that no one could ever replace or fake even if they were the greatest actor of the world. The look that made Yoongi realize he was glad he was where he was at the moment.

 

Something about him calmed Yoongi, reminded him of home before it had all went to . So he clung to him for the remainder of the year, as tightly as he ever could, never letting him go as he did with so many others. Namjoon was a sort of therapy to him in a way. He didn’t love him, he didn’t see Namjoon that way but he gave him what he wanted because he was like a puppy dog that needed to be taken care of. A little kid, a big softy in his eyes.

 

Whenever he’d call out his name, Yoongi would be there by his side regardless of what it took. Whenever Namjoon uttered his name in a breathless, low tone of his, he’d feel a certain sensitivity run through him that caused every single one of his senses to heighten.

 

‘He’s mine,’ he’d always thought, ‘I won’t let anyone touch him, even if he hates me for it.’

 

Anyone that dared look at him for too long was turned away by Yoongi’s strictly territorial aura, exclaiming that Namjoon was his and no one else’s. He held his hand tightly wherever they went even though he’d heavily say they weren’t dating; Namjoon was simply his. No one could ever take his hint of light away ever again, ever so quietly and unknowingly to Namjoon, he’d tie him around a string and have him close to him at all times. Even if Namjoon was hurt, or cried, or begged to get away, he’d never be able to.

 

For he was only Yoongi’s, and he’d only ever be his.