Yoongi loves to sleep.  The only thing that could maybe rank over sleep would be ; even then, it has to be worth losing sleep over.  So, really, sleep is Yoongi’s favorite activity.  He’s the type of person to daydream about napping or a deep sleep.

Perhaps that’s why he’s annoyed.  No matter how he tosses and turns, no position is comfortable enough for him to fall asleep.  Yoongi, the infinitely adaptable sleeper, cannot fall asleep in his own bed.  Yoongi, who once fell asleep on his feet, cannot fall asleep peacefully.  There’s no combination of exposed limbs that will let him go to sleep.  With covers, without covers, all limbs under his covers, and all but one exposed to the air, nothing feels right.  He adjusts his pillows, flipping them to the cool side and fluffing before pressing his head into the fabric.

Wrong, it’s just wrong.  Yoongi huffs, giving up on trying to find comfort on his bed.  He decides that he should try the living room.  He feels ridiculous for even doing it; there's no evidence that changing location will change anything, but he does it anyway.  He tosses the covers off, grabbing a pillow and a blanket from the foot of his bed.  He slips out of his room, making a beeline for the couch.  He hits his shin on his coffee table, almost making it to his destination unscathed.

He curses under his breath as he throws his things on the couch.  He doesn’t bother to angrily mutter to himself about his inability to fall asleep.  He just flings himself onto the couch.  It only frustrates him more because he has to get the blanket to cover him, but his weight is pinning it down.  He shifts his hips, tugging at the blanket until there’s just enough to keep him warm.

His frustration and annoyance seep through as he punches his pillow to fluff it. He practically slams his face into the pillow before he wedges an arm under his pillow as a means of support.  He sighs as he squeezes his eyes shut.  Nothing is going the way that he wants it to.  He just wants to sleep; he is determined to go to sleep.

Somehow, all the determination in the world is useless.  It doesn’t matter that he wants to go to sleep.  He needs to go to sleep.  He needs just a moment of reprieve from suffocating reality of the world.  The living room is quiet; not as quiet as his bedroom for sure, but silence isn’t what Yoongi wants.

The hum of the refrigerator carries into the living room.  Moonlight is filtering in through the glass windows of the sliding door.  Yoongi could pick apart every little thing about his surroundings, but none of his environmental factors are keeping him up.  The object that he can point to as the reason he’s losing his highly valued sleep is sitting on his coffee table.

It’s practically staring at Yoongi.  He opens his eyes and looks at it, the silver key sitting near the edge of his coffee table.  The funny thing is that he didn’t put it there.  Seokjin did when he came barging in with grocery bags full of his own stress-relief.

If it had been left to Yoongi, the key would still be sitting in the middle of his floor. The sound of its metal clattering against tile of his foyer still rings in his ears.  That’s probably what’s keeping him up.  It’s not how warm it is under his blanket.  It’s not that his pillow isn’t fluffy enough or the amount of light in the room.

It’s Jimin.  It’s the little noises that Jimin couldn’t keep on the inside while he was trying to leave, escape Yoongi’s house.  It’s the way that the door slammed when he was leaving.  It’s the look on his face when Yoongi exploded with hurtful words and his unwillingness to understand. It's Jimin.

Yoongi can feel his heart, knocking on the door, asking his brain to reconsider.  He honestly doesn’t what to do wit it.  His passion is always something that stays deep beneath the surface.  He taps into it when he’s writing, and as of late, he’s been writing more.  If he’s being honest, Jimin almost brought everything to the surface.

Yoongi, however, is never honest with himself.  He doesn’t want to admit to himself that Jimin is wonderful.  He doesn’t even want to admit that there’s a world outside of the front door. His deepest, darkest secret lies somewhere in the right atrium of his heart, where blood used for the blush in his cheeks comes back for more oxygen.  It’s a secret that pumps through his veins.  It’s a secret that’s in every breath, every attempt to continue being just for the sake being with him.

It’s not even a secret anymore, at least not one that’s well kept.  His secret spilled into the world the moment that he leaned forward to kiss Jimin.  Even then, bits and pieces of his secret had been seeping into the air around with every smile and laugh from Jimin.  Every time he puts his pen to paper, a little bit of his heart is immortalized in ink.

Yoongi frowns at the key, turning over to face the wall instead of the coffee table.  He has to readjust himself all over again and tug his blanket in just the right way.  He tries to ignore the fact that the key is sitting on the coffee table.

If he thinks about the key, then he’ll think about Jimin.  He’ll dwell and wish that he’d been more levelheaded about it.  He’ll think that maybe if he calls Jimin, he’ll be able to smooth it over with words and apologies.  If he thinks about Jimin, he will have to admit to himself that his heart hurts.

Yoongi can feel the warmth of a tear seeping out of the corner of his eye.  He could say that it’s an emotional tear.  A tear shed out of his mourning the loss of what could have been. He doesn’t say that to himself.

Instead, Yoongi tells himself that even his body wants to go to sleep.  He’s determined to not feel it.  He’s determined not to regret what he said.  He’s determined not to miss Jimin.

He does not miss Park Jimin.

Except for the fact that he does.

___

Jungkook stares at his phone screen.  He doesn’t know how many times he’s read Taehyung’s message, but it’s practically burned into the backs of his eyelids.  There’s something about the way that it’s phrased that conveys to Jungkook that Taehyung still doesn’t get it.

It occurs to Jungkook that Taehyung might never comprehend his actions.  His blunt statement, confession, is still lost on Taehyung.  Jungkook doesn’t know if that’s the truth of it.  He doesn’t know whether or not this is Taehyung’s way of stating he has zero interest in Jungkook. Either way, it hurts.

Jungkook decides to take matters into his own hands so to speak.  He’s tired, exhausted from trying to figure out the way his heart works.  This is one of the first times that Jungkook has ever needed to purge someone from his life.  None of “crushes” have gotten to the point of no return in terms of friendship.

Please don’t come to practice anymore.

Every character kills him, but he repeats to himself that it’s for his own good.  It’s better if Taehyung is just a passing memory.  It’s best for the both of them that there are no more strings that connect them.  Jungkook is done with having his feelings remain unrequited.

He pushes send and quickly navigates himself to his contacts page, a list of people that he’s willing to message because they are family, friends, and acquaintances.  He taps on Taehyung’s name and scrolls to the bottom of the page.  Jungkook’s finger hovers over the red “delete” icon.

He taps once.

Are you sure you want to delete this contact?  All of your chat data will be deleted.  [Delete/ Cancel]

Jungkook bites his lower lip.  He shouldn’t hesitate, but he does.  Emotions, feelings aren’t a simple as a stupid profile in an SMS application.  The symbolism is obvious, and Jungkook needs it to be like that.  He needs to say to himself that by getting rid of Taehyung's contact that he’s divesting himself of his feelings for Taehyung.

He hits delete slowly and deliberately.  The app redirects him to his contact list.  His number of friends has gone down by one number.  For a moment, he panics.  He doesn’t want to cut Taehyung out of his life.  All of his daydreams and “what ifs” could never come true.

He sighs; it’s mix of sadness and relief.  He doesn’t really try to fight the tears.  He’s closing another chapter in his uneventful love life.  Someday down the line, Taehyung will just be a name that he mentions after a few beers when he’s remembering fuzzy details about people that he’s liked.  He’ll be another embarrassing story that Jungkook tells to his grandkids as a gentle reminder that a crush isn’t the end of the world.

Jungkook sets his phone on his nightstand and lies down on his bed.  He curls up halfway, but he’s lying on the bed with his feet on his pillow.  He uses his arm as a cushion.  It’s an interesting change in perspective, or it should be.  All it really does is remind him of Taehyung.  It reminds him that Taehyung was once on his bed, trying to tell him cheesy jokes.

Jungkook ends up wondering how long it’s going to take before his feelings fade.

___

Namjoon vigorously polishes the glass on the door.  It’s probably the fifth time that he’s done it today, and it’s barely been two hours since he opened up shop.  It’s Monday.

He’s never felt such a need to have his store clean, superbly, squeaky clean.  It’s not really that he needs to have it clean; he just needs to keep himself busy.  He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say to Seokjin.

He doesn’t know how to face rejection so openly, especially not after he’s resolved to leave Seokjin in the past.  When he decided to forget about Seokjin, the fact that Seokjin is a regular customer slipped his mind.  Everything is easier said than done.

He goes over his record stands again, making sure that his filing system hasn’t been fiddled with since the last time he checked.  Every time that the doorbell rings, Namjoon seizes in panic for a moment.  He’s trying to figure out which words will work the best.

Namjoon returns to the counter because he’s done all that he can possibly do.  It’s a waiting game, and it somehow feels like he’s losing.

The shop bell rings once again; and when Namjoon looks up, it’s Seokjin.  He hasn’t changed, not that Namjoon had been expecting him to be different.  Namjoon’s perception and feelings have changed, but Seokjin is still the same.

Seokjin approaches him, and Namjoon can tell that he is holding his breath.  This is just as awkward for Seokjin as it is for Namjoon.  The tension is his posture as he stops in front of Namjoon.

“Hi.”  Seokjin starts.  His voice isn’t particularly bitter or disgusted.  It’s not really anything except for sweet.  Namjoon suspects that it’s the pitiful kind of sweet, the oh-I’m-sorry-but-I-don’t kind of sweet.

“How can I help you?”  Namjoon is practically robotic.  He’s not going to playfully exchange banter with Seokjin.  There won’t be flirtatious remarks or genuine smiles.  All of that is locked up in Namjoon’s chest.

Seokjin shifts as his face scrunches.  It’s obvious that he wasn’t expecting a different Namjoon to be standing behind the counter, but he’s there.  Seokjin offers a smile, not that Namjoon is going to accept it.  “Look.” Seokjin starts, “About the other night…”

Namjoon doesn’t let Seokjin get any further, “Are you going to pick up your order or just hold up the line?”

Seokjin glances over his shoulder.  He looks back at Namjoon in confusion, which quickly converts to an annoyed understanding.  “There’s no one behind me.  Namjoon, I’m trying to figure things out in my life right, and dating would just… I’m staying away from it is the point.  I still want to be your friend though.”

Namjoon grits his teeth and finds the nicest way possible to frame his feelings on the matter.  “Seokjin.  I have plenty of friends.  I’m not looking for any more.”

There’s a long pause as Seokjin lets the words sink in.  He takes a measured breath, “I’m not saying that it’ll always be that way—“

Namjoon cuts Seokjin off, “I don’t care if I’m being unfair.  I’m doing what I need to do.  I’m not asking you to shop elsewhere, just don’t come in when I’m here.”  Namjoon gives Seokjin a long and pointed look.  It cuts off any other arguments that Seokjin might come up with.  It stops any meaningful conversation in its tracks.

Seokjin seems frozen; his face shows every single emotion that he goes through.  It’s a very revealing process, and on any other day, Namjoon would have thought that his openness is adorable.

“How may I help you today, sir?” Namjoon emphasizes his noun choice.  He’s putting the distance between them into his sentences.

Seokjin ends up looking rather hurt as he extends a sticky note with his order number scrawled across it.  Namjoon doesn’t even need the order number because he already has Seokjin’s bag next to him.  It’s part of his effort to get Seokjin out as soon as humanly possible.

Seokjin sighs in defeat, taking the bag from Namjoon’s hand, “Until next time then.”

“Goodbye.” Namjoon tilts his head, plastering on a fake, customer service smile as he rests an arm on the counter.  “Have a great day.” 

Seokjin offers a bittersweet smile, seemingly accepting the fact that Namjoon’s once genuine smiles are something he’s likely never to see again.

Namjoon remains a wax figure several minutes after the shop bell dings to alert Namjoon that Seokjin is gone.  The bell rings in his ears for a while.  It’s almost haunting, but Namjoon reminds himself that he has just taken the first step to moving past his feelings for Seokjin.

It’s not very liberating.  Namjoon's heart is still in a tizzy because Seokjin was in front of him.

Namjoon opens the front door and finds that all of the lights in the apartment are dimmed.  It’s not silent, no.  Even from their tiny little foyer, Namjoon can hear the buzz of chatter from the TV.

Namjoon slips his shoes off before he makes his way to the living room. As soon as the couch becomes visible, he can see that everyone is home.  Jimin is on the far end of the couch with his feet tucked under him.  Jungkook is resting his cheek against Jimin’s shoulder while whispering names and places to his elder.  Hoseok is on the floor, nibbling on the crust of a piece of pizza with his back against the couch.

The smell of the pizza reaches Namjoon, encouraging him to come forward and take a slice.

“I’m home.” Namjoon huffs as he picks out a rather large slice of classic cheese pizza.

There are a few meaningless grumbles from his friends.  Hoseok even swats at him as Namjoon climbs over him in order to take up the last open space on the couch.

“What are we watching?”  Namjoon asks as he chomps down on the tip of his triangular slice of heaven.

“Harry Potter.”  Hoseok whispers loudly over his shoulder.

Namjoon pushes Hoseok’s shoulder with his foot, “Which movie?”

“The fifth one.” Jungkook whispers angrily in their direction.

Namjoon and Hoseok stifle their giggles.  Jungkook is being a little too serious, considering the number of times that they’ve seen it.  The fact that they’re all in the living room watching a movie speaks volumes about their collective emotional state.  It also says something about they way that they don’t say anything despite being about to read between the silences.

Jimin doesn’t watch movies, not really.  Everyone knows that Jimin is unemployed again.  They’re all pretending that they didn’t hear his rather violent sobbing behind a locked door.  Just as Jimin is pretending that he didn’t cry his heart out for what must have been hours.

Jungkook’s eyes are redder than usual.  The general air about him is much more sullen.  Namjoon pretends that Hoseok didn’t tell him that Jungkook uncharacteristically forgot to text Taehyung.  He doesn’t tell Hoseok that he knows what it means.  He doesn’t get in Jungkook’s business, or begin ranting about how Jungkook should handle his feelings and take his advice.

Perhaps the most obvious thing that they ignore is Hoseok.  No one knows the last time that Hoseok talked to Hyorin.  They don’t know if she knows that her husband was brutally beaten.  Namjoon doesn’t even know if she attended the competition.  Namjoon can think of endless things to say to Hoseok.  He wants to encourage communication, but it’s harder than before.

He doesn’t know if everyone else can tell that something has shifted in him.  It’s probably painfully obvious that he’s different.  They don’t say anything, just as he doesn’t say anything about their emotional baggage.

There’s beauty, a painful beauty, in their mutual agreement to pretend.  Sometimes it feels like it’s all they have.  If they are all heart-broken in their own way, it’s best to put on a mask.  It’s easy to put up a hundred pretenses and mask their pain.  It’s better to keep their burdens to themselves.  It’s also saddening that they refuse to cry on each other’s shoulders.  They’re all wallowing and drowning in emotion without asking for help.

Namjoon takes another bite of pizza.

His night goes better than he’d expected.  Instead of moping about his own room, locked away in sorrow, he’s living in a world of magic and wizards with his friends.  He doesn’t dissect Seokjin’s words or his extension of true friendship in place of tentative flirtation-ship.  They laugh and make a mess of the living room.  It’s the first step towards healing, the first bandage on fresh wounds.

a/n:
it's me. this got super slightly angsty.  i don't really have justification for it.
this also feels rather pointless because one of you is going to be like 'wtf there's no progress'.  there is progress it's just in a different direction than you might want it to be. 
so obviously i'm completely prepared for like 5000 unsubs (but yehetno 200ish ppl are subbed?? i know i expect negative subscribers).
i'm sorry for grammatical errors (i should have a better grip on my first language) and missed words.
 thanks for reading.
upvote/COMMENT/stay healthy.
comment.
comment?
i'll be over here. dwelling in my inability to control character development without any reader input  whatsoever because hey, it's not like there's more to comment than please update soon.
i wish i wasn't so bitterly sarcastic.
i will literally hug you (mention you next time) if you've made it this far. (i.e. through my self-deprecation and frustration with the lack of feedback in terms of improving my story.)

i love you.  
(dont be afraid to msg me or add me as a friend.)