He drove his car back towards his apartment, the security giving him a weird look at the state of his car as he parked it in the basement. He would need to fix it tomorrow, maybe calling someone to take care of it. Buy a new one, even, because such thing wouldn't be a problem to him either way. The walk towards the lobby and a glance at the clock told him that it was passed four a.m. already. He walked towards the elevator and cursed under his breath, wanting to get back to his apartment as fast as he could. His headache was still there like it always was and Yoongi knew that it wouldn't be any better before he was back in his apartment. After all, he hadn't slept for four days and he would consider what he had managed to do back in the club today as a miracle.

The elevator opened with a ding and Yoongi quickly stepped outside, feeling drained and physically tired for the first time since forever until he found a figure sitting right in front of his door, sleeping. Today had been a crazy ride for him and here he was having another 'crazy' thrown at him, because there was a certain Park Jimin, sleeping in front of his door. The boy was sitting on the floor, head down with his back slumped against the door.

Yoongi clicked his tongue.

"Oi, wake up brat. What are you ing doing here?"

He could already guess it, though. The boy was running away from home again and he had probably thought that Yoongi's apartment was a sanctuary of some sort for him. It annoyed him somehow. Last he remembered they were even, so there was no need for the boy coming back to him. They could revert back to being strangers and forget about each other, not talking for their whole life ever again. He would be content with that.

But no, the boy had to pop out now, sleeping in front of his door.

"Hey, Park Jimin!" he said again louder. Being the mean Min Yoongi that he was, he nudged the boy with the edge of his shoe, too lazy to kneel and touch the boy properly. He hated contacts, after all.

The boy mumbled and he rubbed his eyes, yawning. He slowly lifted his head and looked at Yoongi with this small genuine smile that read 'good morning'. It reminded him too much of that smile he saw when they were both in front of NB, the one smile that was somehow imprinted in his mind. Why did he still remember that piece of image up until now was beyond his understanding.

"Hey, hyung," Jimin said, his voice hoarse, giving him a sheepish smile.

Yet he realized something else as well. The boy's eyes were red and slightly puffy, as if he'd been crying. He could even make out the remains of the dried tears on his chubby cheek, if such thing could even be noticed. But he was definitely been crying, for he could not have mistaken that red, swollen eyes.

"What are you doing here?!" he said, nudging the boy once again.

"Stop kicking me, hyung," he answered, brushing off Yoongi's shoe instead. "You're so mean."

"Yeah, i'm mean. Nobody sleeps on my doormat. Now move. I wanna go home," he whined in return, this time purposely pushing Jimin out of the way with his leg. For once he was exhausted and the headache was threatening to make a comeback. It wasn’t really exhaustion that he felt, to be exact, but he would happily put the label on this stupid sensation since it was better than having nothing.

Jimin got up but instead of walking away the boy raised his hand to his side, trying to block Yoongi from getting to his own door. He rolled his eyes in annoyance and clicked his tongue. He didn’t have time for something as stupid as this now.

“Move,” he said, lowering his voice, showing how he was only an inch away from annoyed to being mad.

The boy in front of him didn’t get the message or probably pretending not to, for he kept on his stance even when Yoongi pushed into him and surged for the handle. They ended up something along the line of wrestling, Yoongi tried to inch his way with the keycard already in hand, and Jimin being persistent, keeping him away from the handle.

“I don’t have time for this!” he growled, yelling.

It didn’t scare Jimin for he kept on resisting. With Yoongi’s condition now, the alcohol and the headache, he knew that his chance to overpower the boy would be slim to none. He wasn’t one to engage in physical strength either and he’d been practically chest to chest with the boy he kind of already forgot how he used to loathe body contact.

“I’ll let you open the door if you let me crash at your couch,” Jimin said, making an offer.

“Like hell I would, brat. I’ve made up to you. We’re even. You shouldn’t even be here in the first place,” Yoongi returned, being mean as usual. But that was indeed true or at least that was all that he saw. The both of them were even and there was no reason for Jimin to even show his nose anywhere near his apartment ever again.

“But hyung I-,”

He took that chance and grabbed the door fast, swiping his keycard before Jimin could react and swung the door open with full force. Victory was painted clearly across his face with a certain “AHA!” being spoken aloud in the air. He thought about going inside and slammed the door right in front of Jimin’s face so he would get that extra feel of triumph and saw his enemy sulked in despair. He was being childish but then again alcohol did wonders to you in ways you could not imagine.

“I don’t have anywhere to go.”

He took a step inside of his apartment and turned around to see Park Jimin. He looked at the boy once again, remembering the red in his eyes and how swollen it looked. He looked sad and somehow Yoongi envied that. He couldn’t cry. He couldn’t feel sad. What Jimin was feeling was probably horrible for he must have been running away again for reasons he never knew. The boy must be angry and sad for doing such thing, yet as horrible as it sounded and seemed, he couldn’t help but envy that. He couldn’t even feel horrible towards himself. He would, just like he had experienced seconds ago, be annoyed or angered for such thing, but he knew that wasn’t a real feeling. He would be terrified whenever the telephone rang. He felt pain and hunger as well, the first especially during his episodes of headache.

But most of all he felt mentally tired, because he realized he wasn’t living at all.

He wanted to ask, actually. ‘Why are you crying?’ ‘Why do you keep running away?’ He had kept that to himself though, somehow knowing that it was the boy’s choice to talk about it. He didn’t want to be like Seokjin. He would just let Jimin talked about it when he wanted to. At least Jimin still got something to be mad or sad about. And what about him? He hardly had anything at all and here he was being looked after by almost everybody that he knew. There was nothing wrong with him yet they kept on insisting, and up to this point, even made him believe that there was.

“Please, hyung.”

It was four a.m. or something in the middle of the night - near dawn even - and Park Jimin had chosen to come to him. As mean as he could be, he didn’t exactly have the heart to cast the boy aside, slamming the door and telling him to sleep on his doormat. Alcohol did wonders, just like he had said, for he sighed and stepped aside, letting the boy entered his apartment.

“You can use the other bedroom,” he said with a sigh before closing the apartment’s door behind and collapsed on the couch as always.

“But I wanna use the couch,” Jimin said again, whining, propping himself right next to him, being too close like usual.

Yoongi just groaned, this time, massaging his temple. His body was tired and for once that was a good sign. Yes, tired was good. He hadn’t felt the need to sleep for so long he would be more than glad to embrace it again.

“Don’t make me regret this,” he mumbled.

Somehow he felt it, the darkness swallowing him whole, pulling him gently towards its warmth, caressing him with their hands. It moved so gently and so carefully until Yoongi didn’t even realize himself drifting into sleep. It reminded him too much of that first night with Jimin. Why? Why did sleep come easy to him only when the boy was around?

“You won’t crasher-hyungnim. You’ll love my company,” the boy answered, being somehow eerily true. It was as if the boy could read his mind. But then again, after he thought about it all this time, Jimin probably already could.

.

It wasn’t the headache that woke him this time. It was another nightmare. Not his usual, because this one was far too ridiculous to be it. Hoseok was doing a somersault in the air and Taehyung had a beard before the two of them invited Yoongi to their wedding. The ceremony was pretty decent, until he got up to the stand as a best man, having to talk about how both the grooms were doomed for having each other to live with for the rest of their lives. He got the mic on his hand, already eyeing Hoseok with this apparent glare and Taehyung with a look of distaste when he opened up his mouth to speak.

“I am-,”

He wanted to say how he was an acquaintance of both grooms (he was too embarrassed to say that he was a friend because he would be damned to call both of them a good friend) when instead another words escaped his lips.

“-a murderer.”

Yoongi blinked. He didn’t mean to say that. Yet he opened his mouth again and the same words escaped his lips. He tried to talk about something else but somehow it was the only words he had grown to known and repeated over and over again from his own lips. The guests were looking at him with confusion at first before somehow their looks turned into that of accusation. He tried to leave the stand but someone caught his hand, whispering the same words to his ear again.

“You’re a murderer.”

That was the one waking Yoongi up. He shot his eyes wide opened, his heart beating fast and his lungs gasping for air. He felt like being dunked into freezing cold water and being jerked upwards again. He clutched one of his hand to the front of his shirt, trying to take a deep breath he ended up like someone suffering from an asthma attack. His other hand went towards his head, feeling them splitting underneath his finger. Yoongi groaned in pain. He shut his eyes hard to the point tears started to pool around them.

It was then that he realized Park Jimin was there. He’d been sleeping on the couch again, sitting slump just like he always did and Jimin had ended sleeping on his side, having his head laid on Yoongi’s thigh. If he wasn’t in such pain he would have protested about that, but right now all he cared and wished was getting rid of the excruciating pain. His sudden movement had probably awaken Jimin for the boy stood upright quickly, scanning his surrounding and spending a few moment to be confused before he looked at the elder who was now crouching down to the point he almost kissed his own knees, both hands clawing on his head.

“Hyung, hyung, what’s wrong?” the boy said. There was panic in his tone.

He wanted to answer that it was just a stupid dream. That combined with a hangover equals to lots and lots of pain. Add sleeping on the couch there, because his entire body felt stiff right now.

“Are you having a headache?” Jimin ran his hand towards his head, placing his palm gently on his forehead. “You’re burning, hyung,” he said.

Funny. He couldn’t have been sick or having a fever.

“Lie down,” Jimin ordered.

He did so, lying on the couch. His joints groaned ins protest and he couldn’t really feel his left leg, probably due to Jimin using it as a pillow for the entire night.

“Wait here,” the boy said before he disappeared. He wasn’t gone for long, coming back with a pack of aspirin and a glass of water. He probably fished that out from the cabinet in the bathroom. So he did have aspirin all along. He didn’t remember buying them at the first place. How did Jimin find them anyway? Putting medicine behind your bathroom cabinet was probably a thing that everybody did as well. He didn't really want to think about that now in the midst of this pain.

Jimin lifted his head carefully and told him to drink the aspirin. He complied before resting his head on top of the couch again, one hand on his eyes and the other hang uselessly from the end of the couch. His head was still pounding but at least his breathing had gotten better. What was that, really? Just another nightmare, wasn’t it? Just another weird dream.

“Are you okay, hyung?”

Just a bad combo of hangover and a nightmare.

“I’m fine, kid. I’m perfectly okay.”

Jimin just sat there on the floor next to the couch, looking at him. He thought that at least the brat would say that he wasn’t, just like Seokjin and the other always said. As if the words were lie, but the boy just sat there in silence, watching him. Yoongi didn’t have to open his eyes to know that the boy was looking at him for it felt obvious already.

“Okay,” Jimin finally answered.

He wondered what time it was already, but thinking just made his headache felt worse. It was noon probably, because the sun was shining outside. Good thing was having the curtains down before he left the apartment, leaving the room dark with the dim sunlight shining through. This was perfect for an afternoon nap.

“Thank you for letting me stay.”

He wasn’t actually in the mood for conversation but he figured that he just simply needed to hear the boy.

“I’m sorry I used your thigh as a pillow. The couch just seemed so comfortable and I don’t mind sharing.”

But Yoongi did mind, actually, sharing, that was. If it wasn’t for his headache he would have probably kicked the boy out completely.

“I’m sorry I cried on your pants too. I'll wash them if you're pissed at me, don't worry."

He didn’t know whether he had to laugh, be angry or sigh at that one. He thought about lifting his other hand to land a smack to the boy’s head, but Jimin continued.

“It’s just that my parents. They-,”

For a moment Yoongi was afraid that the boy was going to cry. He would hate that. He waited for Jimin’s words, waited for a story to start or an explanation to follow. The younger boy took a deep breath before continuing.

“Things are hard, back at home," he said, settling with those words. “And i just can't stand being there and see my parents."

Yoongi hardly ever met his. They never  argued in front of him, never bickered. They were hardly even parents at all. Speaking to him only when deemed necessary. His one attempt of gaining their attention had turned into a horrible realization, one that changed him forever. It was for the good of them because since then he'd come to terms with how this universe were already set for him. His fate was laid in front of him and Min Yoongi just needed to walk forward and followed the headlights.

Yet now he found himself not moving at all.

"Stupid brat."

Maybe he just didn't want to move.

.

The headache was better but his entire body felt heavy. Jimin told him to sleep again but he couldn't bring himself to, stating that he couldn't. Deep in his mind he thought that it was something more about being scared instead of being not able. He was afraid of having another nightmare, one in which the word 'murderer' kept ringing over and over again on his ear. In the end he just laid there on the couch, having Jimin sat on the floor with his back against the couch, looking at the ceiling until his headache subsided and he felt gradually better.

It was his body that felt better, because he didn’t feel like he was the one being better. His body was the one being broken and him as a person was still far from either being broken or not. He was, just like the feeling that lingered, nothing.

The boy had reverted to watching the television, hugging his feet in front of him, head tugged on top of it, just like a certain ten year old kid watching his favorite cartoon on a Sunday morning (and he was actually watching cartoon right now as well). Observing the boy from the corner of his eyes had suddenly become amusing. He watched as the boy had his mouth agape most of the time before it turned into a slight smile or laughter whenever something funny happened on screen. The smile would sometimes turn into a pout every now and then whenever a certain scene that was not to his liking turned up.

Yoongi just watched them all and he didn’t know why he was enthralled with the view in front of him. It was hardly a view, but these days it was something more than just his own face looking back at him from the TV screen with nothing written on it. And JImin, Jimin was different. He was expressive in any way that he could be from a mere cartoon. He envied that, just as he envied how Jimin could cry, how the boy could look so broken. He envied his smile and his cry, his laugh and his pout. How he was crying last night and how he was laughing right now.

Park Jimin could cry and laugh.

Min Yoongi could do nothing but breath.

The ringing phone caught his attention. Something sank inside of his heart as the sound of ringing filled his empty apartment. Jimin turned his head and being an insolent prick like Yoongi knew him to be, Jimin walked towards the phone instead and tried to pick it up for him instead. That was when Yoongi jolted up from his lying position on top of the couch, almost yelling.

“Don’t!”

Jimin froze, his fingers already on the handle of the phone, ready to pick it up. Jerking up suddenly like that had his headache knocking again. He growled, having his fingers on his temple and shutting his eyes. The action just made him dizzy and the sound of relentless ringing didn’t make the situation any better.

“Why, hyung? It’s just a phone call. Are you running away from a debt collector or something?” Jimin said, turning his head towards him with a smile across his face, thinking that he had made such a nice joke. It didn’t sound and seem nice to him at all.

The phone kept on ringing and each second that passed had him watching the phone in horror. This was not the first phone call that he’d got since that last terrifying one and each one of them got him counting the ringing with heart beating, wondering when would the ringing subside and be directed right towards voicemail.

Eight times.

He could even tell that the phone rang eight times.

One, two, three.

“Hyung, you look terrified,” Jimin said, looking at him with the same smile upon his face as if him being terrified of the phone was a joke.

Four, five.

Yoongi gulped. It wasn’t the phone call that plagued him with horrors. It was his dream that did now and no matter where he went, asleep or even waking up, the nightmare would haunt him. It was the static at the end of the phone call as it was diverted towards voicemail and a voice speaking after it, hoarse and unclear, but prominent enough for him to make out the  word being spoken. Jimin’s smile gradually disappeared from his face, the boy finally realizing that Yoongi was afraid for a reason. An actual reason.

Six, seven.

“What are you so afraid of?” he said, the smile gradually disappeared from his face. He looked at Yoongi with face confused now.

The ringing was replaced by a beeping sound. Static filled the air and Yoongi's heart froze in his ribcage. His fingers were clawing the edge of the couch, waiting. 

"Hey hyung, it's me Namjoon."

Namjoon voice beamed throughout the room and Yoongi learned how to breath again. It was just Namjoon. Nothing to be afraid of. Perfectly nothing.

"Just checking up on you. You disappeared last night and as always we got kind of worried. Are you home? Please call me back. I'll probably come later in the evening. God, this hangover," Namjoon said again, groaning at the end. There was some sort of an evil satisfaction upon hearing that he was not the only one struggling with headaches. He thought for a moment how alcohol could be the answer to his situation, but if such hangover as this and the sour taste of vomit that was left between his lips in the morning were the only close thing he got to feeling genuine, than he rather not drink for the rest of his life.

Yoongi sighed, collapsing back onto the couch. Jimin motioned towards him with face full of questions.

"What was that, hyung?"

He inhaled a good amount of air, letting the fear out of his system as easy as an exhale of breath. If only such thing could be done with a sigh.

"Nothing."

Because Min Yoongi was fine.

He was perfectly okay.

.

Yoongi did call Namjoon again. The other boy was surprised to even have him calling back for the first time. It wasn't like he wanted to. It was more like he realized that he needed to. He had asked the younger to restock his pantry and bought him some groceries. It wasn't the biggest request, though, because the main reason why he called was remembering the state of his car that he left in the basement. He had ever-so-kindly asked the boy to take his car to the garage and fix it. Of course Namjoon used that opportunity to coax a promise out of him, but his tired voice and excuse about this favor actually was redeemed from him going out with them yesterday had the other man giving up.

"Yeah, we were kind of happy, yesterday. It felt like the old times and you looked like you're happy, enjoying your time," Namjoon had commented.

He didn't though, and somehow what Namjoon had said got him wondering whether the person at the other line of the telephone was worthy enough to be called a best friend or not. It was a horrible thought, he realized. Drunk Seokjin meant the young man would be sleeping for quiet some time, thus explaining why it was Namjoon who phoned him instead. He was grateful actually, because after what had happened last night he didn't really want to talk to Seokjin in the time being.

After the phone call ended, he looked at Jimin who was still watching another cartoon, seated in front of the couch right on the floor. Yoongi himself was lying on top of the couch again.

"I hate that show," Yoongi commented.

My little ponny. It had once become a guilty pleasure of his (and he tried his best to wipe that memory off of his mind), but right now it just seemed disgusting.

"Awh, come on hyung. I know deep down you love this," Jimin commented,having his back against the couch.

This was one of the moments where Park Jimin became eerily true, as if the boy had a special access to certain memory and thoughts of his brains. Talking of the boy, it was almost noon and he was still sitting on his living room without the intention of going home. He had mentioned something about parents and Yoongi could already understand how Jimin must be feeling.

“Go back to sleep again, hyung. It seemed like you need it,” he said, turning around to see Yoongi, shutting the television off.  He was still sitting on the floor, crossing his hands and placed them on the couch right next to Yoongi, being too close like he always did.

Easy to say.

“I can’t.”

“Do you have insomnia?”

“Maybe.”

“Have you tried counting?”

“You won’t believe how much I’ve counted.”

“Have you tried herbal tea?”

“I don’t-,”

“How about pills? Though I don’t really recommend it, hyung. I know someone who did and got addicted and-,”

“Shut up, okay?! You’re not making anything better!” he said, raising his tone, covering his eyes with the back of his palm. Yoongi hated seeing people and being thrown at by questions indeed for a reason.

Jimin looked taken aback, hearing his yell. The boy went stiff but not scared. 

"There's no need for you to be mad, hyung," he said slowly, voice low and being serious probably for the first time in his life.

Mad? Right, this burning in his chest is anger. He hadn't felt this for a very long time it came as foreign to him already. People always asked hims questions. They were always nosy, always putting labels on top of whatever ing problem he had when he didn’t even have any explanation for it all. Who knew him better than himself, really? And all those people decided that they could tell what’s wrong with him. That was another reason why he hated doctors and avoided seeing one. They would always say that talking would make anything better. Let's try that now, shall we?

“No reason? Let's see. I can’t sleep. I can’t feel sleepy. I spend my days looking at the ceiling, counting till ing thousands and I still can’t sleep. When I managed to, all I get is nightmares and headaches and when I wake up it doesn’t feel like I’ve been sleeping.”

All he got was the same ing words. Murderer, murderer, murderer, murderer, murderer.

“It felt like I’m ing drowning.”

He shouldn’t actually do this. Jimin was simply being an ignorant brat, throwing him stupid questions. The boy didn’t even think about causing any trouble. He didn’t ask him that question he hated the most, didn’t ask him with an annoyance persistent like his friends about him being okay or not. He wasn’t even giving him that concern look he had grown to detest. Park Jimin was just simply there when Yoongi was frustrated. He didn’t even know right now whether it was his friends or Park Jimin did he was mad at.

“Hyung, you-,”

And Yoongi got up, turning his head towards Jimin who was looking at him with wide eyes. He didn’t know but words start to pour from his own lips, raining down towards Jimin. The boy certainly didn’t see this coming and so did Yoongi as well, actually.

“No, don’t start with that , all right? In fact don’t even start at all. I’m sick of people asking whether I’m all right or not because I’m fine. I’m perfectly ing okay. Why don’t you all just ing leave me alone. You're not supposed to be here anyway, brat.”

It wasn’t actually towards them was he mad at. It would be himself though, if he could blame his condition. It would be fate and god if such things even existed.

He let out a huge sigh. They said talking would make anything better. No it didn’t. Turned out that those ty advice were indeed ty after all. He only felt more frustrated, feeling betrayed even, because shouldn’t this actually give him some relief? Where was it right now? He’d done his share of talking so where was the relief promised to him? There was none, right? They were all lying to him. In the end he just spat words towards Jimin who actually shouldn't hear it in the first place. He was, like Jimin always said, being mean.

Jimin was quiet. He maintained his expression, looking straight at Yoongi on his eyes. He didn’t look at him like he was sorry or concerned. He just simply looked.

“I’m sorry,” the boy softly spoke. “You deserve to sleep. I’m sorry that your body won’t let you have it.”

With that Jimin slowly stood up. Yoongi just sat there, eyes cast towards the ground and heard the boy stepping towards the apartment’s door. He heard the door being swung opened as Jimin took his leave. He didn’t even bother to stand up and race for the boy. He asked him to leave, didn’t he? He just sat there without glancing towards Jimin, doing the only thing he was good at. Breathing.

Did he just make a mistake?

Talking didn’t make him any better. It just made things worse.