Yoongi flicked his lighter on. The flame flickered in front of his eyes and died as soon as he let go of the small instrument. He flicked it on again. And off.

There would be no harm in burning down now. He had done enough to deserve it. He had kicked a kid out of the only home he had. Betrayed a friend. Lost the others. Failed to see that one of them was suffering. Failed to see how all of them were suffering. Failed to be anything but an egoistical being.

He flicked the lighter on again and stared longingly at the flame.

He remembered Jungkook’s tears and the pain in his own heart. And everything that was in no way poetic about what had happened an hour ago. The screaming, the sore throats, the sobbing, hurting a hand while punching a wall, attempting to kick the bed only to fall to the ground. The ugly faces they both had as they cried, the snot running down both their noses, the headache and insults, Jungkook begging him to think clearly.

He threw the lighter to the ground, putting all of his strength in the gesture and screaming, trying to get the knot in his chest to stop hurting, but to no avail. If anything, he felt worse than before.

If only he could burn…

Burning. Dying. It wouldn’t be quick, but he had done enough to deserve the pain. Maybe he could give in to his cowardice and jump from the roof instead. No one would see, no one would know.

Unless it was them. They could see the news, if someone reported about his death. They would see how much of a coward he was. Hadn't he done enough to them? Didn't they all deserve at least knowing he had atoned properly?

In a moment of panic, he picked up the phone and pressed the familiar number. He waited for it to ring, to be picked up. If only the other boy would pick up. If only Jungkook could yell at him, tell him he hated him. Tell him to never call him anymore. He would be able to die then.

“The client you are trying to reach is not momentarily available, please leave a me-”

Click.

Tighter. The knot in his chest was hurting so much he didn’t know why he was still breathing. Why his heart hadn’t stopped yet. He couldn’t bring himself to cry, couldn’t bring himself to curl up and feel miserable. Couldn’t bring himself to feel angry at his friends, or sorry towards them. Everything was blankness, everything was void, except for the knot in his chest, that hated him, that wanted him to burn and suffer.

He deserved it.

As he pushed himself up from the bed and walked towards the petrol tank, he felt the knot disappear.

Maybe if he died everything would finally stop.

“Hyung! Hyung! Wake up already! Hyung!”

Yoongi groaned and pushed Hoseok’s hands away. They were promptly on him again, shaking his shoulders to wake him up from his slumber.

“Hyung, you better listen to him, Taehyung is coming and he has water.” Jimin’s voice chuckled with glee. Yoongi forced his eyes open and winced when a headache crept upon him.

He probably shouldn’t have slept at four in the morning.

He yawned, sending a little bit of the headache away, but didn’t move a single inch. The ground that was still warm from their improvised campfire, the chilly morning air, the blue sky and the solid, white clouds. The blanket that had been moved enough in his sleep to only cover his hips by now, and the feeling of hard rubber on his back. He stayed put, taking it all in, enjoying the moment.

He heard the steps, but it wasn’t until something freezing touched his head and started trickling down his face that he realized Taehyung had actually opted to wake him up with water.

He cursed loudly, jostled completely awake, and jumped to his feet to knock some sense into the younger male. Taehyung screamed - loud enough to bring the headache back - and ran away. Yoongi considered his options for all of one second before deciding that chasing him was definitely not worth it.

“Who took my shoes off.” he deadpanned instead, realizing his feet were making direct contact with the grass below them. Hoseok and Jimin both grinned and pointed to a very unwary Jungkook, who was just peacefully talking with Seokjin a few metres away.

He walked over and slung an arm around the other’s back (absolutely not due to the fact that he couldn’t reach his shoulders) and with the kindest smile he could manage, he asked about his shoes’ whereabouts (or in his exact words, “You, tell me where the you put my shoes before I throw yours in the campfire”). Jungkook flashed a perfectly innocent smile at him, teeth glistening in the sun and eyes forming crescent moons.

“I don’t know, ask Namjoon-hyung.”

Yoongi hesitated a moment, not knowing whether to trust the candid smile, then groaned and went to look for their leader.

“Hey, have you seen my shoes?” he asked, finding him against a wall with pen and paper, presumably writing lyrics. He and Namjoon had met in a rapper circle, and although they had both dropped out since, they still enjoyed writing songs.

“Nope, sorry, ask Hoseok.” he answered, looking up for a moment and going back to writing immediately after.

“Hoseok said to ask Jungkook.”

“Hoseok helped Jungkook and Taehyung take off your shoes, that much I can tell you.” the younger man chuckled without taking his eyes off of his notebook.

“And you obviously didn’t stop them.” Yoongi growled, turning around and skipping his way back to where they had slept to avoid hurting the soles of his feet too much. He reached the mess of car seats, tires and blankets they had used for the night, where Hoseok and Seokjin huddled around the newly re-lighted campfire, trying to warm up the remains of their dinner.

“You, Jung Hoseok, tell me where my shoes are.” he ordered, masking a wince when he accidentally stepped on a stone. Hoseok turned around and flashed an innocent smile, much like Jungkook had done.

“They’re on that tree.” he almost sang, pointing at his red Converse, which, as promised, were tied by their laces to a branch he was sure he couldn’t reach unless he climbed.

“Go get them.”

Hoseok pouted, but Yoongi wasn’t going to allow this game to continue any longer. Not that he was really angry at the boys for wanting to play; he simply was too tired to walk around without shoes.

“I hope you enjoy cold rice because someone carved a hole into our only pot.” Jin told him a few minutes later, handing him a bowl and two chopsticks when he was done putting on the Converse. Yoongi shook his head, letting a chuckle escape him and deciding he didn’t want to know who the someone was.

“The culprit lives with you by the way.” Jin added helpfully, preparing two more bowls to give said culprit and Jimin, who were dancing without music in the field just behind them.

“I’ll treat us to lunch.” Yoongi sighed, feeling partly responsible. “And beat some sense into him if he keeps going like this.”

“Aish, don’t ruin the mood, let the kids play. It was a very old pot anyway.”

He would never forget the day Jungkook had barged into his house, barely sixteen at the time, eyes red and puffy from crying, and had asked him if he could sleep at his place because he was running away from home.

Yoongi's parents hadn't come home in years, and they wouldn't return in the years to follow either. He had gladly accepted, telling himself it was only for the company that he was tolerating the younger's reckless behavior.  He still called Jungkook's parents and reassured him the kid was in capable hands, lying through his teeth. God knew his hands were far from capable, but he would still take care of him for the moment.  

He gave up on trying to convince the younger to return home and face his family, whatever their divergence might have been, after a week. He wasn't very family-oriented either, so he could understand. Nor could he really protest much when Jungkook dropped out of school a year later. It wasn't like he - or their leader for that matter - was setting any better example by opting to not go to university. He was at least glad the kid hadn't brought love-related problems home. Yet.

Jungkook soon grew to surpass him in height by a long stretch and Yoongi often wondered if he was doing the right thing, if he was being too friendly, or maybe too strict. He wasn't exactly raising the kid, but he wasn't exactly a simple friend either. He would still discipline him and even though the younger didn't like the idea, take some time to teach him whatever he could. Rainy days are great for writing music. Don't get drunk around strangers. Start looking for a job because I sure as hell ain't paying for your driving lessons when you turn of age.

He decided he was just what tradition and common courtesy demanded Jungkook called him - an older brother - when one day he was woken by the younger male shouting 'hyung' incessantly from upstairs. Turned out he was in the bathroom and had no toilet paper. Yoongi had to try hard to resist the urge to throw it violently towards his face.

"Hyung, are you mad at me for stealing your shoes?" Jungkook asked that night - or more exactly, morning, Yoongi noticed. It was 3am. So much for not sleeping at ungodly hours.

"No, but my life would be easier if you didn't wreck havoc to Seokjin's cooking equipment." he grinned. The eldest had taken it surprisingly well but still demanded he pay him back for his pot.  

"Sorry." Jungkook smiled the same way he had smiled that morning, which told Yoongi he was anything but sorry. He still felt the corners of his lips jump upwards and slapped the back of the other's head, turning the gesture into affectionate hair-ruffling immediately after.

"Go to sleep, it's already tomorrow."

"Yeah, one moment, Jin-hyung wrote me something." Jungkook mumbled, his phone. Yoongi waited for him to finish reading his message, wondering what could've been so important for Seokjin to write at this hour. He remembered his phone had rang a few minutes ago too and wondered if he had received the same message.

"This is a joke, right?" Jungkook whispered before he could look for his phone. Yoongi went to his side instead, reading the message and feeling his good mood disappear.

The lazy morning, the beautiful sky, the fresh air. The pranks and giggling. The fast food, throwing fried chips at each other, the senseless screaming, the running. The pictures they had snapped while drunk on energy drinks and the night's euphoria. All of it was slowly replaced by a creeping sensation of fear as he ran towards the sofa and frantically looked for his phone. He found it in the pocket of his jeans and pressed the speed dial with trembling hands.

The call was picked up after two rings, but the voice wasn't Jin's. He felt his heart sink a little deeper.

"Yoongi-yah? Is that you?"

He gulped his worries down, and any politeness along with them.

"Ahjumma! That wasn't funny, damn it!" he shouted into the phone, ignoring Jungkook's hopeful eyes as he carefully watched the conversation.

"Oh, Yoongi, I'm so sorry, I really am, he didn't want to tell you, he really--"

Click.

"Hyung?" Jungkook asked after a few seconds of silence. Yoongi realized the younger was crying, but made no effort to stop his tears. He turned around instead and started getting dressed again.

"Hyung?" Jungkook asked again, this time with a broken voice. He wanted to turn around and shout profanities at him, to make the creeping sensation of fear disappear, but he found he had no voice.

"I'm going to St. Mary’s Hospital, hurry up." he whispered instead.