Yoongi sat on the curb staring up at the sky allowing his mind to wander as it pleased.  Thinking about everything, anything and nothing at all; the tension across his shoulders easing away as the minutes passed slowly, time ticking by as he fell back against the damp sidewalk, moisture soaking into his jacket slowly. Blinking slowly towards the sky, willing away the clouds and the bright lights and the noises of the city; wishing silently for stars and moon and silence.  He lay there longing so deeply for time to freeze just for a moment that his chest physically ached with want.  Shivering slightly he pulls his jacket around him tighter, breathing deeply. Slowly bringing his hand towards the sky, fingers opening and closing, he wished for a fleeting moment that life was a little different.

There were very few times he wished his life wasn’t what it had become, but there were still moments when he hadn’t slept for days on end, his stomach was nearly empty of food, sweat pouring over his skin, muscles aching and head pounding that it would happen for fleeting seconds, a mere moment of wishing life was different before it faded away just as quickly as it came.  There were moments when he couldn’t find inspiration, mixes didn’t sound right and beats weren’t meshing with words that he would bang his head against the table he was sitting at a wonder why he even decided to do this, before an idea would jump into his head as his hand would start shaking with the need to create, create, create.  There were days when screaming fans and endless crowds and just never having a moment of privacy ripped through his skull, pulling at his sanity and fraying the edges of this dream he’s been running towards for so long, until he’d have a few moments to actually take a minute and appreciate it all, take in the fact that what he creates has a legitimate effect on the lives of others, that maybe he actually is making a difference with his music.

He wonders briefly what it would be like to be a normal student, living a normal life, meeting people normally, going out and just doing whatever he pleases.  But then he thinks about the music and the words and the life he has; he thinks about this dream he’s been dreaming for what seems like his entire life.  All the years and pain and tears he’s put into this thing he’s finally doing.  Small steps towards something much bigger, something he really can’t even explain with words.  Really any sacrifices he has made seem like nothing when placed beside his achievement.  And when he thinks about the people he’s met, most importantly the boys he is sharing this dream with, he can’t imagine not having them be a part of his life because they are just as much a part of him as he is.

So maybe some nights and days and moments are rougher than others; fleeting seconds of what-ifs and maybes and could-have-beens.  And maybe occasionally he slips into a momentary confusion of reality and fake and persona that he finds himself flailing about for a while before he can figure a way to once again attach his feet to the solid ground beneath him. And yes there are sacrificing he has to make, that they all have to make.  There are bad days and rough days and exhausting days and just mentally taxing days that sliding into another and then another until he can barely breathe.  But he finds little moments of clarity, all those little silver-linings that make him push another step forward. 

“Hyung?” the sleepy voice startles him enough that he knocks his head against the sidewalk wince falling across his features sharply. The shadow traveling over his face forces him to drop his hand back to his side, tilting his head to the side. He rolls over and hops to his feet, muscles down his back pulling sharply for a moment.  He winces as he eyes the other boy for a moment.

“,” Yoongi curses softly rubbing his hands over his arms, heart still beating a little wildly beneath his ribs. “Why are you out of bed?” he questions, stepping closer to the sleepy eyed boy.  Jimin yawns and brings a folded fist to his eye rubbing softly before blinking slowly and looking up.  Yoongi fights back a smile, eyes soft as he looks at the younger boy who is undeniably cute despite messy hair and cheeks warmed red from sleep.

“You were gone,” Jimin’s voice lifts into an almost whine, mouth puffing out into a pout.  Yoongi smiles then, shoving his fingers into the boy’s hair a