Silent ticking of as the shorter hand points four, Seokjin’s bed remains cold at this ungodly hour. Tossed and turned, tangled in the sheets that felt so queer. Frowning brows filled with anxiety and heart heavy with fear.

Seokjin reached for his nightstand, feeling for the trembling device. A mess of numbers displayed on the screen as he squints harder to decipher it. Sighing with dismay, he glided the green button, accepting the call. “Hello,” tension and stress were easily audible.

“Hyung!” He knew, he knew just by the way the caller pants, he knew what was going on. “Yoongi hyung is with me, can you pick him up? He is kind of drun-“ Seokjin did not want to hear the rest, he was sick and tired of hearing that one word every time at twilight.

Taking a deep breath, he collected himself, swung his feet to the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through his unkempt hair. “Where are you?” so monotonous and expressionless that right after his question, the air through the line was stale.

“The usual hyung, we would be waitin- Yah, yah hyung! You can’t do that.” The grunt travelled through the line and was momentarily cut off seconds later. This just made Seokjin’s frustration and annoyance bubbled even more, he could feel the tip of his ear turn warm in this piercing room. How could a grown man be so irresponsible?

Coats were swiped off from the foot of the bed as he touched the pocket of one to feel the jagged edges of keys. He left the house with the same unchanged icy ambience and unmade sheets. Lots of dismaying thoughts ran through his mind as he halted to a stop right in front of his car. He laughed bitterly and finished with a sigh, at how disgustingly familiar this situation seems to be.

He stuck the keys in the ignition, starting the car with a rough grumble. Routinely switching on the car’s headlight as it pierced through the patch of blackness. He was on his way to the usual and that made him sick.

As he turned in, he spots a brunette heaving a drunkard mess along the sidewalk. And that just made him even more disappointed. The temperature in his car dropped immediately, his head hanging and shaking, and the breath he held was released as an unpleasant sigh. It wasn’t Seokjin’s first time seeing Yoongi in such state, yet for an unknown reason his heart always fell with his feelings all mixed up.

Seokjin remained in his car for a few moments, observing how Yoongi tripped at his own feet and how Jimin’s mouth moved with ungraced every time Yoongi’s body faltered. Unfortunately, every move to Seokjin was like a broken video recorder, replaying unwanted images again and again.

That was it, Seokjin couldn’t take it anymore. He snapped his seatbelt and slammed the car’s door shut, just so the others knew of his presence. Every step was took with rage, he stormed towards Yoongi with a menace glint in his eyes, “it’s time to go home Min Yoongi.”

Jimin blinked, once then twice and then thrice. It was silent, the night was silent. Yoongi was no longer singing to any revolting pop song and Jimin had stopped nagging at his hyung to stand properly. The only thing that was heard besides the brewing autumn wind was Seokjin’s heavy breathing caused by dismay and vexation.

“It’s time to go home Min Yoongi,” he repeated, voice cracking a little but still holding the same amount of seriousness. In that time of wrath, he dismissed Jimin with rough waving gestures and later on made mental notes to apologise for his unruly behaviour.

Along with his speech, his actions too became antagonised, he had a tight grip on Yoongi’s upper arm as he tugged mercilessly at the intoxicated man towards his car, not caring if he stumbled and needed time to recover. Using all his force, he threw Yoongi into the front seat and forcefully buckled his seatbelt. All Seokjin wanted was to go home.

The car ride home was filled with eerie silence, because normally in daylight, Seokjin’s favourite station would be softly resting above Yoongi’s random remarks at everything that passed the car. (“Do you think we would last?” and to that Seokjin had to crane his neck to glimpse at the object that started this topic, he saw two grey-headed hunching bodies, holding each other so dearly. “I don’t know,” his sight and concentration back on the road, “depends on how much you love me.” And in response to that Yoongi placed his hand on Seokjin’s thigh, running it up and down gently, soothing its creases as he continued to stare outside.)

Yoongi wasn’t a person who shows affection openly, and Seokjin knows that. Between all those cuddling and making love, it was Seokjin who had initiated it all. Because how many times does Seokjin have to slip his cold hand into Yoongi’s jacket pocket, just to hold his hand in public. Seokjin also knows Yoongi has difficulties expressing his emotions, both words and actions wise, so Seokjin was always forgiving when Yoongi’s arms were glued to his sides while Seokjin had his wrapped around Yoongi or when his ‘I love you” wasn’t returned. These are Yoongi’s flaws and yet somehow Seokjin found a way to adapt to them. Yoongi wasn’t perfect, but to Seokjin they fitted perfectly.

As Seokjin parked his car by the curb, he took a cautious glance towards his side, he noticed how Yoongi had fallen asleep on the way home. His head was tilted in an uncomfortable angle, hanging to the right and his mouth slightly agape with light hushed snores escaping. Seokjin couldn’t hold back his escaping smile (a tight one that is) as he continued to grace over Yoongi’s soft features. This was the man who slurred curses at inanimate objects not too long ago.

Shaking his head again, he hauled Yoongi out of his seat and into their apartment. Inebriated mumbles were whispered in Seokjin’s right ear as he staggered across the living room. Carefully settling Yoongi onto the couch, he left to get some fresh clothes for Yoongi to change into.

When he returned, Yoongi was in the same position, arms spilling out of the couch with inaudible words escaping his parted lips. Seokjin went over and peeled off the clothes that reeked alcohol and smoke, and replaced them with something that smells a little bit more like home.

By now Yoongi was more conscious about his surrounding, especially after Seokjin had lift up all his limbs to change his clothes. His vision was still unclear, unable to pick up complex figures, but he knew it was Seokjin in front of him, bending to pick up his soiled clothes. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Seokjin sighed, and to Yoongi it sounded so familiar yet painful. No words were spoken, all he did was walk away with Yoongi’s clothes in his hands. “I am sorry,” however no response was given, Seokjin continued walking down the hallway into their laundry area to drop off Yoongi’s filthy clothes. “Seokjin.”

“I am tired,” Seokjin started, “you say this every single time Yoongi, that you are sorry, that you won’t do it again. But the next day at 4am I pick you up, drunk again.” His shoulders raised and fell drastically as he exhaled, his head bowed from the heavy weights of disappointment and his back still facing Yoongi. Seokjin didn’t had the guts to face Yoongi, because he was sure if he did, his stand would start to sway by just one look of guilt.

Padding of feet filled the empty house, along with soft muffles of ‘I am so sorry’. Seokjin could feel Yoongi behind him, just by the way he breathed and by the heat that radiates. And just to confirm his existence, Yoongi placed his forehead against Seokjin’s firm back, arms hanging by his side idly, relieved that he wasn’t rejected. “I am sorry,” he breathed, the hot air he exhaled tickled Seokjin’s skin lightly, sending shivers everywhere.

“I am really tired Yoongi,” clenching his jaws and swallowing all the profanities threatening to escape, he filtered all his words and after a minute of silence, he spoke. “You never tell me anything,” Seokjin paused, gauging Yoongi’s reaction, only to be answered by the constant air being blown into his back, “you always drink, thinking it will solve all your problems. But it doesn’t.” shaking his head as he expressed his thoughts. “Talk to me Yoongi.”

Slowly, Seokjin felt the loss of contact, just like how he felt the loss of connection. Breaths were no longer on his skin, closed eyes were now directed at Seokjin. Yoongi then shuffled to their shared bedroom, “sleep, let’s sleep,” his voice so low, Seokjin wondered if he’s still drunk. He almost complied, seeing it as a lost cause to talk to him now, until he saw the scene in the bedroom. Sheets that remained unkempt, crumpled with every depressing thought, the air still felt cold, even with two hot breaths.

He frowned, forehead creasing with disappointment and sorrow. And at the same time he was subtlety shaking his head to forget a clouded memory, because he remembered how years ago he told Yoongi not to frown so much. Now look at him, he has been frowning for the past few hours. (“Yah! Don’t do that,” Seokjin’s thumb grazed over Yoongi’s brow, soothing the lines, “you look older than my grandfather.” The furrow eventually disappeared, only to be replaced by his usual grim expression. Seokjin lets out a small chuckle, his hands still on Yoongi’s face, caressing his left cheek dearly. “Smile. You look better with that.” And for some amazing reason, Yoongi heeded Seokjin’s advice, moving the corners of his lips north, cracking a little smile. Biting the insides of his cheeks, Seokjin can’t help but smile a bit wider, eyes crinkling to form crescents, mimicking his boyfriend. “Beautiful,” he daringly closed the gap between them and pressed his lips against Yoongi’s cold ones. Seokjin left a little peck, still feeling Yoongi’s smile on his lips.)

“No.” The word escaped, with him unknowingly shaking his head once again, he was shocked at his voice, so scarily firm with cracks nowhere audible. He decided to continue before this wave of fearlessness washed off him, “talk to me…” However, Yoongi continued to walk into their shared bedroom, as if Seokjin’s pleas were swallowed by the thin air and unheard of. “Please…” Seokjin trailed, his last spark of hope fading.

Yoongi stopped at the foot of the bed, following him, Seokjin halted in his steps too. Desperately waiting for some sort of response. “Not now okay, not now Jin.”

The name that left Yoongi’s lips, stunned him. He could feel himself falling, falling into Yoongi’s trap made of guilt and doubts, something that was so familiar yet painful at the same time. All thoughts of pursuing the issue disappeared, his mind turned hazy and his heart was attracted to the inebriated man right in front of him. His mind knew Yoongi does not deserve to call him a term so dear, yet Seokjin’s heart swelled and yearned to be in his arms, peacefully asleep.

Yoongi brings about uncertainty, Seokjin knows that. Seokjin gives unconditional affection, Yoongi adapts to it. Seokjin remembers the times he was forced to wake up at the wee hours of the morning, not to a delirious man, but to a man with a grin wider than any before. (“Jin! Jin, wake up! Let’s go”, Yoongi was patting Seokjin’s cheek repeatedly, his body filled with adrenaline as his muscles lost control, shaking with excitement. “Go? Go where,” voice still hoarse from the lack of water and sleep visible from his state. “Go!” enrapture captures his whole body as he drags the groggy man out of the house with two coats. Yoongi started the car and drove recklessly into an isolated area, unpopulated by skyscrapers and buildings. He dragged Seokjin, who fell back asleep while he was driving, out of the car and up to its hood, bouncing gleefully as he saw Seokjin follow. They settled in a comfortable silence, accompanied by the soft, soothing hums of cicadas. “It is nice here don’t you think,” Yoongi wasn’t facing Seokjin, but he knew right now there was a beautiful smile on Yoongi’s face. “Yeah, it’s pretty,” Seokjin agreed absentmindedly, thoughts concentrated on Yoongi’s delicate face, because it was indeed pretty.) This was how their day started on some mornings. With Yoongi dragging Seokjin out of the house at 3am to watch the stars and talk about random topics, some days it was about the creatures that populate the ocean and some days it was about their unpredictable future. But Seokjin never regretted these rare moments, even if it consumes his sleep time, because this was the only time he saw Yoongi so carefree. And even though they were thousands of stars twinkling brightly above, there was something else brighter. Something else he loved more than anything in the universe.

So there Seokjin was again, enticed by the false sense of security. He fell into a pair of arms, as Yoongi instinctively held him closer. The feeling of Yoongi’s soft breath on his neck and sheets tangled around two pairs of legs, made him believe that this situation would not repeat and that he was not foolish for believing in Yoongi. He shut his eyes tightly, praying that this could last forever. For in that moment, Seokjin felt safe and loved, even if it’s temporary and flawed.

The last thing Seokjin could make sense of before he drifted asleep was the persistent stench of alcohol, still present in the air.

“Hyung, it’s me Jimin. Can you…”

A/N: hello, thank you for reading. took me a while to finish writing cos im always lazy. anyways if you guys want an alternative ending just comment below, i might write one, who knows. yup! anyways thank you for reading, please comment and subscribe! (:

* I do not own the gifs, credits to its rightful owner!