Yoongi always finds reasons to stay awake until early in the morning, when sunshine starts soaking through the blinds. Even though his reasons for not sleeping are different from day to day, he can't stop feeling as though the nights are repeating themselves; almost as if he is stuck inside a time loop, cursed by a demon, like in one of those cliched movies.

Another one night stand. Another song that he got inspired to write. Another cocain line in front of him on the kitchen table.
 

However, there is no demon keeping him back. It is his life and his mind trapping him. It’s not a movie, Yoongi knows, and there is no waking up to realize that it has all been a dream. He ignores and shoves away the thought, knowing that it would only suffocate him.

The creaky bed lulls him into a deep sleep and he doesn’t get up until the next night, when his life brings around another similar scenario, something that happened a week or maybe even a month ago.

Yoongi’s life consists of cycles and endless patterns, his life remaining as a consistent, peculiar routine. As if his days are recycled, relived over and over again in the world where nothing ever changes. Maybe the names of people, yes—that is, however, nothing more but a minor detail in his mind.

Appearances always stay the same. Everybody wears same shirts, same jeans, same shoes, with the same smiles playing on their lips. They try to stand out, but merely blend in more and more.

They are always innocent, nice and slightly childish. Trying to look mature, as if to impress him—and Yoongi allows himself to believe it works, just for the fun of it.

This boy, for example—black hair and twinkling dark eyes, a leather jacket that is supposed to make him look cool. A smirk on his lips that doesn’t cover his childish cheeks and the naive look in his eyes.

His name is Jungkook.

However, it doesn’t have to be—last week, there was Hoseok, he came and left just like someone else before him. Just as pretty. Just as innocent.

Yoongi captures his attention easily and offers to buy him drinks. There are shy smiles and fascination in the other boy’s eyes, making Yoongi bored, yet entertained more or less at the same time. He knows how exactly it is going to end. Although, every time he experiences it is just like the first.

Yoongi tells Jungkook about himself. Yes, he raps. Not really famous, but he’s got connections. Oh, Jungkook can sing? Cool. They could collaborate sometime and make something together.

He tells Jungkook sweet lies, maybe not right away—this type get scared away too quickly, they need more dates and romantic moments at first. And then Yoongi pretends. He pretends like Jungkook is truly unique. Like he is changing his life.

For example, Yoongi has stopped smoking because Jungkook thought that it wasn’t healthy. Yes, he improved his sleep schedule. He worked out this Wednesday. Yes, his apartment is really clean.

“Thanks to you,” he repeats with a smile.

Eventually, Yoongi gives Jungkook a song, more generic about love and romance and youth. That same one he gave to Hoseok and the guy before him. With the same words Yoongi had said to both of them—he doesn’t need anything more in life, everything is perfect the way it is.

“I think I’m in love,” he continues, faking a shy smile.

That night they on the couch, rose petals, sweet kisses and other vanilla , and god, Yoongi is growing sick and tired with this one.

At times like this he feels like he’s nothing more than a cat toying with a mouse. Pretending to let it go, like he doesn’t mind to make the mouse feel safe, before catching it with his claws.

One day, he stops answering phone calls. Stops replying to his texts. After a few days, Jungkook decides to show up at Yoongi’s front door, a bouquet of roses in his left hand, a phone in his right.

Yoongi feigns a look of offence, tears rushing down his face. Large, dark bags under his eyes.

And then comes the, “what do you mean you have no idea what you have done wrong?”

Jungkook whispers something—Yoongi, you were my first love, Yoongi, it doesn’t have to be like this, Yoongi, let’s just talk.

Or something along those lines. Yoongi isn’t listening, instead doing the final ritual, closing the door right in Jungkook’s face, catching a last glance at the other boy’s tears. Yoongi feels indifferent and distant from the world as he sees the younger boy’s fragments of a broken heart as if it is right there, on his carpet.

The young man can’t exactly explain why he does this. Maybe, it’s the feeling of power and the enjoyment of taking something away from others the moment he gets a chance to. To feel a sense of superiority, a need to feel in control of something.

He never pondered on this too much, the topic leaving his head before he had a chance to start contemplating his life.

The next night, he feels as great as ever, living his life as if the past couple of weeks had never happened.

He doesn’t know what’s coming next, but he has a vague idea.

Another one night stand. Another song that he got inspired to write. Another line in front of him on the kitchen table.

Or another Jungkook with a different name, but same physical features, same innocent smiles, same naive eyes. He will offer a drink. He will tell a little about himself, make a compliment. He will find another mouse to toy with for a while, pointlessly, just for the fun of it.