Jungkook was running away from home. He had had yet another fight with his parents about his relationship with Yoongi. They didn’t accept it, would never accept it, and didn't fail to remind him of their disapproval at every chance they got. 

Jungkook was tired, and so he ran and ran, looking down, vision blurred by tears, and not caring about where his feet would take him.

When he paused to breath and got back to his senses he found himself in the street in front of Yoongi’s motel. What a coincidence.

So with puffy eyes and partially dried tears on his face, he cried out.

"Hyung!" 

- 

Inside the motel room Yoongi was sitting at table. Hunched over a pile of papers, his fingers held a pen that he kept thumping over the wooden surface to the melody in his head. 

For a split second he imagined he had heard something, someone calling him? No way, he dismissed the thought.

It was late at night, who would be calling him at this time? His friends? Of course not, they were probably sleeping or partying with each other — Yoongi has never been one for parties, so he couldn’t picture them coming over to drag him to one (at least not without invading his room uninvited and making themselves at home first). Jungkook? No, the boy was surely in his own room, sleeping soundly.

But why was he overthinking this anyway? The sound was probably just some random noise his mind tried to fit in with the melody he created and, somehow, the result ended up being bad enough to the point he started to divagate and think about anything else other the song he should be writing. Yeah, that was it.

And with that he returned his attention to the papers in front of him. 

- 

Still in the middle of the street, waiting for Yoongi to answer him, Jungkook didn’t notice a car approaching. When he heard the loud sound of a honk and the screeching of braking tires and turned in their direction it was already too late. 

- 

Now that was a sound Yoongi couldn’t mistake for anything else, a crash, something colliding with a car.

He walked to the window, circling the piano and resting his hand over it for support. He looked down and his blood froze. 

There was a car with its front lights flashing. In front of it, a few meters away, there was a person, a boy — a too familiar boy —, lying on the ground.

People were starting to gather around, whispering to themselves. 

Yoongi rushed out of his room, down the stairs — there was no time to wait for the elevator — and out to the street.

He pushed some people aside and followed the blood trail, the smells of oil, smoke and iron clouding his senses. How could there be so much blood??

He raised both hands to his head, pulling at the dyed brown strands. 

Why hadn't he looked for the person calling him earlier? Why hadn't he gone outside, even if it meant being met with just an empty street and the chilly night breeze? Why couldn't he have forgotten about his work just this once? Anything would've been better than this, better than seeing Jungkook's young and pretty face covered in bruises, dirty and bloodied, emotionless and so, so pale.

He walked in circles next to Jungkook's lifeless body, searching aimlessly in the increasing crowd of people for someone that could tell him that it was all a lie.

Jungkook wasn’t dead, he couldn’t be.

As soon as he felt the first tear fall he ran down the street, there was a gas station nearby. 

- 

He poured gasoline everywhere, on the floor, on the table and on the piano.

The bed was soaked, and so were the pillows, and the sheets.

He wanted everything to burn. He wanted the memories to burn. He wanted to burn.

And so he did. 

 

--- 

 

"-ung" 

"Hyung" 

Yoongi opened his eyes and quickly shut them again, throwing an arm above them, as they were hit by nothing but brightness. 

After a few seconds he slowly opened his eyes again, waiting for them to adjust to the light flooding the room, and was surprisingly met with Jungkook’s own big and round ones. 

Yoongi sat up straight, so fast he almost knocked the boy that was previously looming over him. 

He looked around. They were in his hotel room, the small table covered in papers, the piano under the open window being caressed by the curtains that flowed peacefully inside. He could hear birds chirping outside and people walking, hurried for work.

It had all been a dream, Jungkook was still alive, Jungkook was still by his side.

"Yoongi hyung," the boy's soft voice filled his ears once again. Yoongi looked at him and Jungkook was smiling brightly.

Jungkook leaned in, pressing his lips to Yoongi’s, short and sweet. 

"Good morning." 

And Yoongi thought, smiling back and leaning in for another kiss, with you here, it couldn't be better.