… drunk yoongz breaks my heart

Warnings for drunk af Yoongi.

Word count: 587

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A key scratching against the door, the sound of shaking hands trying to find the keyhole. The door shudders as he kicks it in his frustration, which brings you rushing towards it in a fit of worry. Has he been drinking?

And a smaller, more insistent question in the back of your mind: Did he really keep that key, all this time?

Your hands are shaking now, too, but for an entirely different reason– the sight of him as he stumbles in, barely able to keep upright, gripping the doorframe with his chin against his chest and his shoulders sagging with the weight of his pain, it’s almost too much.

He looks up at you, eyes filled with tears and an incomprehensible rage that he must have been hiding carefully until the alcohol set it free tonight. So much hate, so much hurt, could never appear on a second’s frustration.

“What have you.. where have you been?” You’ve forgotten all about what happened two months ago, only able to see him and his suffering manifesting itself before you. It’s past midnight, past one in the morning, and he looks like he just ran across an entire city to get here. He probably has.

He holds a soju bottle in his left hand, bone dry, and he’s shaking his head repeatedly like he’s trying to shake away some kind of nightmare.

He doesn’t say anything in reply, maybe he’s too lost in the cloudy haze of drink for words, but his eyes.. his eyes say everything for him.

That look in them, a glassy-eyed look of pure concentrated hurt, breaks your heart and drips tears down your cheeks.

“Yoongi. Yoongi!“ 

It’s just one word but you’re nearly screaming it at him, begging for a response, and he’s holding to the wall in the entrance hall like his life depends on it, seemingly ignoring you. Or maybe he’s just too afraid to lift his gaze.

When you first reach out, your hands are beaten away, leaving your palm burning from where the hard glass smacked against it. 

Then, out of the blue, he reaches forwards to wrap you in his arms. He stinks of tobacco smoke (when did that happen?) and the alcohol you’re sure he’s been taking in at alarming rates tonight, but his body has the same warmth it always had, that sense of safety and stability lingering even in his current state.

Why did you ever think that this warmth wasn’t right?

Why did you ever let him go?

You lose yourself in it, your tears dripping onto his shirt and your lips carving out his name, over and over again. You hold him as close as he can possibly get, feeling like you’ve found the piece of yourself that has been missing for as long as you’ve been alive.

“Look at me– just- just breathe, okay?”

You feel him nod against your forehead, though you’re not sure whether it’s purposeful, to express his acceptance, or if it’s just because he’s falling asleep.

He slumps against you, and you almost fall over with the weight, but nothing matters now –  not arguments that happened far in the past, not disagreements you two had over the smallest things. It’s love, and you shouldn’t have counted it out because it broke off in a fit of annoyance from both parties.

You stand there for a while, arms entwined with his, quietly sobbing as the bottle drops from his slackened fingers and shatters.

너를 사랑하는 것 밖엔 못해.
I can’t do anything but love you.