Yoongi’s roommate was Kim Taehyung, a guy with a rectangular smile and streaks of sea green running through his brown bangs.  Taehyung was an art major, and his favorite part of art was the thought process behind it.  Though his way of thinking wasn’t as deep and philosophical as Yoongi’s, he loved the idea of using the bustling city around him as his personal studio.  He preferred to display his portfolio on the busy streets rather than in some cheap plastic presentation case that no one would bother looking through.

Yoongi had just spent the past ten minutes weaving up and down the railroad tracks and through the jumble of faded train cars, peering inside in hopes of finding Taehyung in one one of them.  It didn’t occur to him to look up until he heard the faint rattle of a pea inside an aerosol can and the hiss that followed afterwards.

Taehyung was kneeling on the roof of a faded blue train car, a colorful array of beaten-up spray cans around him.  His face was inches from the surface as he carefully examined his work.  Without lifting his head, he blindly d for a can, trying one, two, three times before he found the correct one.  Unfortunately, not before he accidentally knocked the previous two off the platform and sent them plummeting to the ground-- right as Yoongi walked by underneath him.

“Hey!  Watch it, will you?”  Yoongi snapped as he narrowly avoided the falling spray cans.

“Sorry!”  He heard Taehyung call absentmindedly from his elevated workspace.  Taehyung didn’t look up.  After a few seconds Yoongi heard the hiss of the spray can again and sighed.  He picked up the two that had landed on the gravel and climbed up the ladder on the side of the train car, blinking in surprise as he surveyed Taehyung’s latest piece of art.

“You nearly cracked my ing head open.  And what’s that supposed to be?”

“What does it look like?”  Taehyung reached for an orange spray can and a cloud of bright orange mist shot out the nozzle.

“… exploding rainbows?”  Yoongi suggested after studying the graffiti, which covered the majority of the large surface.  He yanked himself up the rest of the ladder and sat down next to Taehyung, who finally straightened up and made a face at him.

“No, you idiot of a three-headed goose.  They’re butterflies.”

“Butterflies,” Yoongi repeated doubtfully.

“Yeah, I know you heard me.  Butterflies.  Don’t look at the finer details or try to distinguish all the individual colors.  Stand back and look at the entire thing as a whole.”

Yoongi pulled himself to a standing position and stepped to the base of the artwork.  Slowly, he began to realize what Taehyung meant.  He began to see that the rainbow blotches were in fact mere shadows, mere illusions of blurry, faded butterflies.  His eyes traveled up the surface and he pieced together the vibrant splashes of colors, mentally forming the image of an enormous, vivid butterfly with wings made out of the dying remains of other, smaller butterflies.  He whistled appreciatively at the sight.

“Damn,” he said slowly, stretching the word out.  Trying to figure out how such a thing of beauty had been created out of a small selection of garishly bright colors, he continued to stare at the artwork.  Suddenly, a thought came to mind.

“Wait a minute.  Humans,” he breathed.

“What about ‘em?”  Taehyung turned away and began putting the lids back on his spray cans.

“Humans.  Butterflies are like humans, like so many aspects of life, in so many ways.  Fleeting… fading.  Promises.  Relationships.  Oh my God.”  Yoongi abruptly sat down on the roof of the boxcar and started to rummage through his jacket.  “Where the hell is--”

“And the heavenly lightning bolt of divine inspiration has struck the self-proclaimed musical genius once again!  The marvelous, the fabulous, the magnificent-- not to mention stunningly handsome-- Min Yoongi!”  Taehyung exclaimed dramatically, a wide grin on his face.

“Taehyung--”  Yoongi cut in, fumbling through his pockets and pulling out various items.  Out came his phone, a matchbook, and a pair of silver in-ears.  Taehyung pretended he had a microphone in his hand.

“Stand back ladies and gents, let Mr. Min concentrate.  What you’re witnessing right now is a very rare and very special moment.  Actually, I take that back-- not exactly very rare, considering the man spends more time writing lyrics than he does sleeping, which is saying something if you're close enough to the lazy bastard to know just how much he can sleep.  Whoa nelly!  This is just in, this genius of a composer has just been enlightened by the music gods!  Hold on, hold on, let’s not crowd him.  Give Mr. Min some air.  If he doesn’t seize this moment, he’ll--”

“If he doesn’t seize this moment, Mr. Kim will find his lifespan significantly shortened.  To prevent young Mr. Kim from dying a horrible and untimely death, let’s give Mr. Min some ing silence, shall we?”  Yoongi finally found the shorthand notebook he always carried with him and fished out a pen from the back pocket of his tattered black jeans.  He shot Taehyung an icy glare before flipping to a blank page and beginning to scribble frantically.

Taehyung mercifully left him alone to work and took this time to put his spray cans back in his backpack.  Before he put the final one away, he uncapped it, shook it, and sprayed the silhouette of a small alien at the bottom left corner of his creation.  He then put away the last can and zipped his backpack shut.  Artists of all kinds always left their mark.  Taehyung knew that Yoongi was a true artist.  Although he often poked fun at the way he would get sudden flashes of inspiration and whip out his notebook to write it down while it was fresh in his head, he held a deep admiration for his best friend.

Meeting his now-roommate had been complete coincidence.  One afternoon, Taehyung (who had been a sophomore back then) had found a ripped and battered notebook in the campus dining hall lost-and-found bin and sat at a table poring over it, trying to decipher the messy handwriting.  It wasn’t until half an hour later that a boy with white-blond hair showed up and nearly bashed his brains in with a cafeteria tray when he realized that he was snooping through his notebook.  That notebook contained a collection of verses he had written in his free time and rough drafts of the songs he was working on for his next mixtape.  That boy had been a seething, livid Yoongi.

But his anger faded once Taehyung, too amazed to realize that Yoongi was close to burying him alive, praised his work.  The shower of compliments hadn’t been to talk himself out of trouble-- the poetic way Yoongi wrote really was something worth being in awe over.  Yoongi had warily taken in the praise, wondering if Taehyung indeed thought his passion wasn't a waste of time.

Despite his initial doubt, the two of them ended up spending the rest of the afternoon talking about Yoongi’s love of music.  Later that night, Yoongi ended up taking Taehyung back to his dorm to listen to his entire CD collection.  And that was the story of how the two became friends.

It was really too bad that Yoongi’s parents didn’t care about his biggest interest, Taehyung frequently thought.  They were such birdbrained pineapples for letting all that talent go to waste.  This guy as a biologist cooped up in a lab?  No matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn’t picture it.

Taehyung watched as Yoongi closed his notebook and stuffed it back into his pocket.  The faraway look he always got when he had an idea still lingered in his eyes.  But since Yoongi had put away his notebook, that meant it was safe to talk to him without fearing that he would get his head bitten off.  He headed back to his side and plopped down next to him.

“So what brings the great Min Yoongi to the outside world?  I thought you were going to stay in indoors all day again, alternating between working and eating cup noodles.”  While Taehyung was usually out creating street art or sitting through class, Yoongi rarely left the dorm they shared.  He cut class on an almost daily basis, preferring to work at his miniature version of the music studio he had back home.

“Very funny, Taehyung.”  Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“Tell me something I don’t know.  Perhaps the reason why you decided to venture into the lovely outdoors on this fine day?”

“I need you to get in touch with Jung Hoseok again.  I’m running low.”

Taehyung’s smile slid off his face.  He broke eye contact and stared off into the train yard and the city backdrop beyond it.

“Listen, man,” he said at last.  “You can’t keep doing this.  You know it’s not good for you.  You'll regret destroying your body like this.”

“That goddamn Kim Seokjin and his ridiculous preaching.”  Yoongi slammed his hand onto the metal surface of the train car, causing the inside to echo loudly.

“What happened now?”

“He should be happy I even took the time to show up to his lecture today.  I swear, every time I leave the dorm, I get in trouble.  That’s part of the reason I never bother going to class.”

“Have you ever considered that reason why he’s upset with you is because you never do your work?  And that you’re failing biology?”

“Not to mention all my other classes, but honestly, I don’t care.  I couldn’t care less if I fail.”  Yoongi dangled his legs over the side of the train car and rested his elbows on his thighs, slouching forward.  “This place is so useless, I don’t even know why I bother putting up with all this crap.”

“You put up with it because you have to.”  Taehyung assumed the same pose Yoongi was in and looked him in the eye.  “You know the reason why.  We both do.”

Yoongi spewed out an abundance of rather colorful curse words.  Some of them were ones that Taehyung had never heard before.

“Midterms are coming up,” he said after he finished.  “And Kim Seokjin says I’m ed over if I don’t start trying.  The hypocrite.  As if he tried when he was my age.”

“He said that?  That son of a glittery pink raccoon said that you were ed over?”  Taehyung chortled and Yoongi allowed himself to laugh along with his friend.  God knew whether he would laugh again in the upcoming weeks.

“Obviously not.  The piece of--”  Yoongi let out a raspy exhale and rotated his neck to get the kinks out.  “You know what?  Never mind.  He’s not worth pissing myself off further.  I have enough things in my life that piss me off.”  He laughed again, a laugh that sounded a little like a dying animal.  Taehyung frowned.

“For real though, you can’t keep doing this.  I’m telling you, drugs ruin your health.  Sooner or later, you’ll develop a smoker’s cough.  You’re already so thin and pale and sickly.”

“I’ve always been this pale because I rarely go outdoors, and for the record, you’re just as thin as I am.  Hoseok specifically told me that these drugs are different, so trust me, I’m never gonna develop a smoker’s cough.  You’re certainly one to talk.  How would you like it if I called you out for going out in the middle of the night and graffiting every street corner in Seoul?  Oh, deary me, what if my little darling Taehyung catches a cold because he’s not dressed warmly enough?  Does my precious Taehyunggie need another jacket to wear?”  He asked in a high, sickly sweet voice.

“Yoongi, I’m being serious.”  Taehyung was still frowning, so Yoongi reluctantly shut his mouth.  “I’m concerned about you.  I know people who find other ways to cope with their own problems, so it’s certainly possible for you to not smoke and still manage to stay motivated.  I’m telling you, drugs aren't the answer.”

“What would you know about drugs?”  Yoongi retorted.  “You don’t know about drugs and you’ve never felt the way I’ve been feeling for over half my life, so who are you to judge me?  You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted something and how long I’ve had to go through hell to have a shot at it.  There’s a certain point where I can’t take it anymore.”

“I get what you’re saying, but there’s been one too many of these ‘certain points’.”  Taehyung sighed, but he knew that he was only drawing out an argument that could only have one outcome.  Min Yoongi was the most stubborn, most persistent, and most hardworking person he knew, but that wasn’t enough to get him through hell, aka university.  He was right.  Even though Taehyung was terrified that the side effects would catch up with him one day, the drugs Yoongi used had always helped.

“If you really get what I’m saying, then you’ll contact Hoseok and arrange for us to meet up again.”  Yoongi’s voice was low and firm, and Taehyung knew that that was the final word.  He watched as Yoongi dug through his pockets again, this time emerging with a small ziploc bag.  It was filled halfway with a multi-colored mixture of crushed, dried leaves and flower petals.  To the ordinary eye, it looked like an unusual variation of weed.  The two men, however, knew it to be something far stronger.

Yoongi pulled out his matchbook, as well as a packet of rolling papers.  What caused Taehyung to raise his eyebrows in surprise wasn’t the fact that Yoongi was about to use those dangerous substances again-- he was used to that by now-- but what he was using to make his mouthpiece.

“Is that the research paper you turned in last week?”  He snatched the paper away from him and skimmed it before cringing.  “This is complete bullsh-- what the is this?  Are you sure you weren’t high when you wrote this?  I haven’t touched biology since high school but even I know that Darwin was the one who came up with the theory of evolution, not Galileo.  Also, survival of the fittest doesn’t mean that the fittest and strongest organisms survive.  It means that the traits that are best suited to one species are the ones that are passed down, and the species’ offspring will have those certain traits.”

“Must’ve made a few typos.”  Yoongi snatched the paper back and ripped off a corner.  "Cardboard is preferable to normal paper, but I don’t have any on me right now.  The professor gave this back to me today.”

“A typo?”  Taehyung asked incredulously.  “How did you manage to spell ‘Darwin’ as ‘Galileo’?  Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi.  You can do better than that.”

“Stop saying my name so much or you’re gonna wear it out.”  Yoongi was focused on rolling up the joint, his long fingers deftly forming a cylindrical shape.  Rolling joints was actually much harder than it looked, but he had done it so many times that he could do it faster than most people could.  He the rolling paper’s adhesive strip twice and twisted the end closed.  He then took out a match and struck it, causing a tiny white flame to spark to life.

The instant the end of the joint caught fire, Yoongi blew on the flame until it went out.  Raising the joint his lips, he took a shaky breath and allowed the smoke to fill his lungs.  As it did, he felt his mind beginning to clear.  The mist faded away and he saw himself on a basketball court.  He hadn’t been there in ages, not since he gave up his place on the high school varsity team so that he would have more time to focus on his music.  The rim of the basketball hoop looked so far away, and Yoongi suddenly felt very small standing in front of it.  He didn’t like the rim.  It was only a rim, he kept telling himself.  But why did it feel so…

Then he noticed that there was something in his hands: a pulsing ball that seemed to be made out of a large, lustrous sheet of smoke.  It was only red and pink smoke, but it seemed strange because it was calling out to him.  The rim was whispering to him as well, sighing and rustling in its spot ten feet off the ground.

The entire court was vibrating.  It laughed and jeered, and the murmurs of the crowd rose up around Yoongi like a tidal wave.  He didn’t know where they were coming from because they were everywhere at once.  Yoongi began to panic.  He was afraid the world, of the unknown standards the rim had set for him.  Why was everyone laughing?  Why was the rim mocking him?

As soon as he realized how frightened he was, the world began to flicker.  The blinding array of colors was dissolving, the heavy breathing that pierced the noisy air was slowing, the sun was setting on the horizon, slowly making its descent into the hoop.

For some reason, the fact that all this was disappearing terrified Yoongi even more.  He breathed out a giant breath and inhaled another puff of smoke, hoping that all the brilliance of this nerve-wracking, yet strange and beautiful world would once again come back.  There were shadows in front of him were running ahead, and they didn’t look like they were waiting for him.

No.  His eyes grew to the size of moons as he realized that he was trapped, that this moment, scary as it was, was melting away.  For a reason he couldn’t explain, he was scared, but happy at the same time.  Somehow he had the feeling that nothing like this moment would come to him again because there was only one chance at the future he so desperately wanted.  Footsteps were echoing in his ears.  He looked down and found himself running in place.  Suddenly, he realized that he was experiencing right now was a metaphor of his biggest struggle in life.  The future he wanted so much seemed daunting to him and far out of reach.

A loud discordance of notes and instrumentals crashed into him, knocking the ball of smoke out of his hands and causing his eardrums to throb.  The ball was flying through the air.  Flying… through the past… the present… the future… Yoongi’s future.

While all this was happening inside Yoongi’s head, Taehyung sat there and watched patiently.  Yoongi had been taking these drugs at least twice a week, every week, for the past three years.  No matter how closely he watched Yoongi while it was happening, he could never tell what exactly the drugs were doing to him, nor could Yoongi find the words to explain it after it was over.  All he knew was that in the end, Yoongi would remember his purpose in life.  He would not only be reminded why this was absolutely necessary, but he would also have the motivation and the drive to follow through with his goals.

Within the first five minutes of Yoongi ingesting the drugs, storms of colors and other surreal qualities that Taehyung couldn’t begin to describe flooded his eyes.  And if Taehyung looked closely, he would be able to see Yoongi’s entire being trembling so fast that the edges of his figure would blur together.

The worst part of it was over soon.  Yoongi’s outline stopped running together like watercolors against canvas, and although his eyes were still very bright, the colors had faded somewhat to their usual brown.  Sitting up slowly, he took another drag of the joint, sending spirals of red and pink smoke ghosting through the air.  He arched his head back and released more of the bizarre chemicals through slightly parted lips.  His eyelids slid halfway over his dark orbs, partially obscuring the colors and shapes that were swirling their way through.  A sudden thought occurred to Taehyung as he continued to stare at his friend.  The blue and silver of Yoongi’s jacket, the mint green of his hair, the red and pink of that strange smoke.  The washed-out hues of the train yard they were in and the fiery, pinkish-orange glow of the setting sun.

“I should have brought a camera or something.  This is so aesthetically pleasing.”

Yoongi’s eyes opened the rest of the way and he gave him a strange look, pulling the joint away from his mouth.

“Huh?”  Taehyung noted that even though Yoongi looked as detached as he always did, there was something different about the way he carried himself and the way he met his gaze.  There was a new color to his eyes, a glossy sheen that made the whites of his eyes sparkle.  Taehyung smiled.

“I’m just saying, you look really artsy when you smoke.  That expression on your face, the way the smoke snakes out of your mouth, the crisp lines of your body against the abstract feel of the smoke.  Your posture and how relaxed you look compared to before.  If you weren’t interested in music, you could go into modeling or something.  I’m sure you’d do well in that sort of business.”

Yoongi raised his eyebrows at Taehyung before deciding to humor him.  He sprawled onto his right side, posing seductively and holding the joint inches away from his lips with two fingers.

“Hey, you’re an artist, aren’t ‘cha?  Why don’t you draw me like one of your French girls?  Go ahead, I bet you would love that.”  Yoongi smirked at him and bit down on his lip suggestively.  His raspy voice had dropped several octaves.

“Last time I checked, you weren’t a French girl, and thank God for that.”  Taehyung wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“Fine, then.  Whatever, draw me like one of your Korean men,” he retorted, pushing himself back to a sitting position.  “Oh right, you already have one of those in your life.  Isn’t your boyfriend a part-time model?  Imagine how jealous he would be if you were praising my spectacular modeling skills instead of his.”

“Jungkook doesn’t care.”  Taehyung seemed to brighten a little as he mentioned his name.  “He already knows that my love for him is--”

“Yeah, yeah.  Enough about Jungkook.”  Yoongi took several long drags.  “Shouldn’t have mentioned it.  Once I get you started on that bunny-toothed brat, there’s no stopping you.  Anyways, have you seen Namjoon around?  Doesn’t he usually come with you on your vandalism sprees?”

“Come on, Yoongi  You know this isn’t vandalism,” Taehyung protested.  “It’s a form of expressing oneself.  Paints and sprays and waxes on paper, on concrete, on train cars, what’s the difference?”

“Chill out, you know I was just messing with you.  Where’s Namjoon at?”

“Dunno.  The god of destruction is probably still stuck in class.  Earlier today he mentioned something about asking his professor for help on--”

“Again?”  Yoongi sighed.

“What do you mean again, you swaggy turtle?  What are you complaining about?  Are you saying that you prefer his company over mine?”

“Oh, please, if Namjoon and I were the last two people living on this earth--”

“-- then complete and utter chaos would ensue,” a deep voice rumbled from below.  Yoongi and Taehyung both glanced underneath them to see a lanky man with peach-colored hair that was mostly hidden underneath a black beanie.  He wore an old overcoat, which had once been camo-patterned.  The bottom half of the coat had been graffitied over by Taehyung a few years back. and was now red and white instead of green and brown.

“I see how it is,” Yoongi rolled his eyes.  “Taking your sweet time, dragging your lazy over here at a snail’s pace, and showing up right before I start heading back.”

“Lazy ?  Ha, look who’s talkin’, eh?”

“Shut the up, Namjoon, you’re the one who’s late this time.  I need to head back to the dorms.  So much for hanging out after class.”

Namjoon looked surprised.

“You went to class today?”

“I know, right?”  Taehyung smirked at Namjoon.  “That’s a first for our crusty, crotchety Motionless Min.  Well, not exactly.  This is actually the third time this year he’s shown up to class.  It’s a new record!”  He said enthusiastically.

“I should write another diss track and roast both of you to a crisp,” Yoongi griped.  “But that’ll have to wait.  I’m heading back to study, so later, you asshats.”

Yoongi began stuffing his belongings back into his pockets, and Namjoon did a double take as he noticed the drugs and the pack of rolling papers for the first time.  He and Taehyung both stared at their friend as he gathered the rest of his stuff and started down the ladder.

“Hey, Yoongi!  I know I was late because of that study session Professor Cho was holding, but it was kinda necessary.  If I’m planning on getting an A in that music theory course, I need to spend every minute I have studying, ya feel?  So I’m sorry that I couldn’t get here early, no need to be salty about it.  If you want, we can go down to Hongdae and grab some fried chicken and hang out by the bridge for a bit.  The night’s still young.”

“Nah, I’m good.  I’d prefer to order my own fried chicken from my dorm.  I know this really cheap delivery service, cheaper than what the vendors can offer you.  And whoever said I was being salty?  I need to get going so I can get ready for midterms.”

Taehyung and Namjoon exchanged a look before looking back at Yoongi, who had reached the ground already.  Even from this distance, the two of them could see the red and pink sparks in Yoongi’s eyes.  They were quite literally ablaze with what appeared to be fireworks.  Namjoon could have sworn he heard faint crackling and popping sounds.

“Alright, catcha later then,” he said at last.  Yoongi was already walking away, but stopped after a few steps.  He slowly turned around and tilted his head to the side.

“A music theory course, you say?”

“Yeah.  I don’t like it very much, but it’s a required class.  The struggles of being a post-modern music major, am I right?”  Namjoon chose his words carefully and watched for Yoongi’s reaction.  Sure enough, his eyes began to flash brightly.  The roaring fire in his eyes grew so intense that some of the embers spilled out his pupils and fell on the ground, sizzling as it singed the dull grey gravel.  Without another word, the man turned away from them and started back in the direction of the city.  His footsteps left scorch marks on the ground.

Namjoon took it all in and looked back at Taehyung, who wore a grim look on his face.

“Hoseok again?”  Namjoon said indignantly.  “He can’t go on like this.  I don’t care what Jung Hoseok says about whatever the he’s smoking and how great the aftereffects are-- too much of this is gonna kill him.  There’s always a downside to drugs, no matter which kind you take.”

Taehyung exhaled slowly before nodding.

“I know.  But we’ve both been around Yoongi long enough to know that once he smokes that , nothing’s gonna stop him from getting what he wants.  Whatever Hoseok’s giving him, it’s keeping him from losing hope, not to mention his sanity.”

Hi my readers/subscribers ^^

Technically not supposed to be updating again so soon, but this chapter was completed about a week ago, and since I've gotten a significant increase in subscribers, I figured that I should just publish this now LOL

The amount of random BTS references in this XD see if you can find all of them?

To those of you who are new here, hi ^^ and thank you once again for giving this fic a chance.  I know I've mentioned this multiple times before and those of you who know me are probably sick and tired of me saying this over and over, but I do love all comments (especially those that go beyond a simple "please update soon!" or "I wonder what will happen next~~") and I would really appreciate it if you all took a minute or two to say something about this chapter and the ones that'll follow.

O.o truth is I don't even know why I tagged this fic under comedy when I don't have that much experience reading or writing comedy and I don't even know if my writing is funny or not LOL sorry if it made you cringe... and I know that some parts might have been confusing, so feel free to ask for clarifications?

Thank you for reading, comment, subscribe, and upvote if you haven't already, and have a lovely day everyone ^^