The green cursor has been blinking on the black background of the computer screen for what feels like hours, and Yoongi’s been staring -- almost trance-like for just as long. He has yet to write a single word and he feels exactly like the blinking cursor; as if he is standing stunted in a dark place, unable to move forward while fighting to find the light.

Yoongi is a grown-up, or at least, he likes to believe he is. This situation with Hoseok and Jimin, however, has turned him into a whiny three-year-old who’s upset because he can’t open his Christmas presents before Christmas. The man sighs, he knows it’s stupid and selfish and ugly, but he’s human for s sake -- and humans don’t always make sense. He runs his hand through his hair, messing up the pinkish orange tresses (dyed recently for promotions). 

“Aish,” Yoongi exclaims as he slams the mouse down against the desk. 

He needs a distraction, or a drink, but it’s a tad bit too early in the day for a drunk Yoongi, so he opts for an energy drink from the vending machine instead. He stands up and kicks away the chair from behind him, and yes it’s passive aggressive, but he doesn’t give a flying ; if he wants to get mad at inanimate objects, he damn well will. 

The walk to the machine is refreshing in a sense because he’s no longer locked up in a tiny room staring at a blank computer screen and waiting for inspiration to hit him, like a batter in a baseball game – all while he pretends he’s not thinking about Hoseok and Jimin. Normally the studio is his elixir and his healing balm, but today, nothing has helped, not even his most beloved music. The open space of the hallway feels oddly freeing to the rapper, as if he's been set free from prison. Although his mind is still filled with pictures of Hoseok and Jimin being close and cuddly, the walk through the halls makes his heart feel less constricted.

Park Jimin for messing things up. Who the hell gave him permission to cause Hoseok to falter anyway?

“Damn it Yoongi, you really can’t be mad and you know it. You had millions of chances,” the pinkish orange-haired man tries to reason with himself, but it doesn’t work. 

Standing in front of the vending machine, he chooses a Monster energy drink; he plans on staying in the studio till a song comes or he dies, whichever comes first. He decides on the long way back to the cave, the extra walk should clear his mind. The building is empty, it’s Sunday. The hallways buzz with silence and Yoongi likes the eerie feeling the lack of noise creates. He can feel the wheels in his brain start to turn as lyrics begin to form, based on the almost haunting mood his vacant surroundings produce. 

The rapper is about to turn around and head back in the direction he came from so he can write down the song that is developing in his mind. His progress is halted, however, when he hears a faint sound, music? He proceeds in the direction of the intrusion and finds himself at the door of the practice room. He knows without entering that it’s Hoseok on the other side. Yoongi stands frozen on the outside, having a mental battle with himself about whether or not he should enter.

Open the door you coward.

No, he’s practicing.

That is the lamest bull reason for not confronting what’s going on, and you know it Min Yoongi.