WELL HELLO THERE AFTER A LITERAL YEAR WOW

-

"Yoongi?"

The next morning, he awoke to a soft voice, one that he was fairly sure he knew.

Perhaps if he hadn't been so tired, he might have marveled over how he could hear this quiet voice over the breath of the wind.

When he opened his eyes, he groaned quietly at the alarmingly bright sunshine swirling in his pupils. It definitely didn't help the mild headache that awakened along with him, causing him to rub at his temples.

"Yes?" he muttered halfheartedly, eyes screwed shut. It took him a moment to remember exactly what he looked like right now, and the terrifying moment that he did was the same moment that the small voice spoke up again.

"What happened?"

When he finally came to his senses and realized who it was, his chest became lighter as the sudden weight of stress stepped off of him.

"Minah," he vocalized, the name coming back to him as he smiled internally, laying his head down in the grass as if it were his own pillow. "Minah." My guardian angel.

"Someone is happy to see me," she pointed out, sitting when she found a comfortable place next to him on the ground, warmed by the sun.

"Keep it to a whisper please," Yoongi requested, rubbing his temples again as he sat up. "But yes. I am incredibly thankful you aren't my father."

Minah glanced over her shoulder at the castle - Yoongi's luxurious prison, where the king was probably scolding someone or other right that moment. "I might be offended by that if it didn't make so much sense," she admitted, swiping her long hair away from her face. "Imagine if he saw you dressed this way."

"I would never be allowed to leave my bedroom again," Yoongi agreed, only with a hint of sarcasm. Pulling his knees to his chest, he imagined the way his father would yell at the sight of his own son dressed like a lady. It was both hilarious and terrifying.

"Well, aside from that," Minah said, noticing him starting to become engrossed in his thoughts. "What was last night like?"

The sun rose on Yoongi's fate as he remembered. "It was better than I thought," he confessed, fingers drifting across the front of his dress where Jimin had run into him. "And I don't even fully remember half of it," he added, the slightest grin creeping up on his face.

Minah gasped. The last time Yoongi had heard someone gasp like that was when Hoseok watched him chuck a piece of pottery at the wall. "Did you, Prince Min Yoongi, get yourself properly drunk last night?" she questioned as if that was the most fascinating thing in the world to her.

As shyly as a cold prince could ever nod, Yoongi did.

Minah crossed her legs as if she planned to be there for a while. "Well, now you must tell me about it," she said, grinning.

Yoongi let a small laugh bubble up in his throat, partly because he now knew Minah's priorities and partly because he was starting to remember everything that happened last night.

A tiny smile still curved his mouth, which was halfway open and already held his words, but it seemed that chance decided his story was meant for later.

Footsteps sounded from nearby, and Yoongi went paler than he already was as he instinctively crouched beneath the line of the bushes. Minah widened her bright eyes at him before her head whipped around fast enough to injure her.

"Oh my god," she whispered, shooting him a stiff look of panic. "It's your father."

"Talk to him," Yoongi urged, his heart spiraling out of control as he gently pushed her in the direction of the king. It was no secret that he was the king of sternness and severity before he was the king of his people. "He can't know I'm out here. He'll murder me."

Minah had no time to consider what that could mean for herself. She was on her feet before logic could stop her, and the king immediately locked eyes with her as Yoongi hid in terror below.

"Minah," the stiff-faced man realized aloud, his intimidating eyes caging her in like four stone walls.

It cast a looming shadow over her, draining her of all expression. "Sir," she murmured, bowing in respect.

"What exactly are you doing out here?" he asked, scoping the area with a sour look on his face.

"I wanted to feel a bit of sunshine, sir," Minah lied, swallowing over the nervous lump in . It was ultimately a terrible excuse, but it had to be good enough. "I had goosebumps," she added, rubbing her arms.

The king clearly held no sympathy for those who dealt with shivers in the summertime. "You're never to be out here," he warned, crossing his arms over his chest. "If you forget this again, I can assure that you won't see the sun for days."

Minah felt her heart twitch in fear, and she let her head hang forward like a dead bloom. "My deepest apologies, sir."

* * *

Yoongi - now dressed like himself and not like a sweet girl from a fairytale - swiveled his head around warily, just to be sure that the hall was very empty.

Like the first time he checked, there was no one to tell him not to go in that room, that it was essentially a quarantine room for the servants who didn't know how to act. There was no one to tell him no.

Just the way that he liked it.

Painstakingly slow, he opened up the door, knowing exactly who would greet him when he could see the inside of the room.

"Minah," he whispered, and the name had just barely left his lips when he felt a fervent hand grabbing onto his wrist.

He was yanked clumsily into the room without a moment to think or even be startled, and his boots made awkward clunking sounds as they shuffled across the floor. It was a damn good thing that Minah was the one holding onto him. If it were anyone else, he would have sent his fist flying into their face.

"What was that for?" he blurted out when she'd finally shut the door behind him.

Minah shrugged her shoulders, finding no reason to not be honest. "I just received a punishment to save your arse, so I suppose I'm returning the favor," she mused, lowering herself to the floor of the completely bare room.

Yoongi huffed a heavy sigh of petulance. "I am still a prince, you know," he grumbled, bending his knees to curl up across from her on the floor. A familiar icy look rested on his features. "I could keep you locked in this room for as long as I want."

Minah frowned at him, but the cloud of terror that had surrounded her yesterday was gone. "You really are no fun," she remarked.

Yoongi snorted, forgetting that their first meeting yesterday had consisted of him shouting the resolve out of her. "Royalty are not supposed to be fun," he replied. "I'm just a good example."

Barely aware of the venom in his voice, Yoongi watched as Minah shifted uncomfortably. She was clearly less than pleased, but there was nothing to gain from arguing with Yoongi, so she didn't.

"So," she began, and the oblivious prince could clearly see her shutting the bitterness in the back of her conscious. "Did you meet someone?"

Surprisingly, Yoongi's mind had not wallowed in the memory of last night very much this morning, but Minah was able to change that with only a few words. Visions of Jimin began to rush through him again all at once, and his chest was full of just about everything but air.

Minah read him like an open book. "Oh, you did, didn't you?" she exclaimed, clutching her chest like it was her own heart that had been stolen. "I knew there must have been a reason you were smiling. What was she like?"

A daydreaming Yoongi found himself falling from his euphoric fantasy in mere moments.

She.

What was she like.

That word cut through him like a dagger, leaving his heart in limbo and his eyes locked with the cold floor. The entire night ran through his mind again, but this time, he saw Jimin's short, messy hair, his strong arms, the honest way he laughed. "Um, well..." mumbled a suddenly very distant Yoongi. "Sh-She was kind. And an amazing dancer."

Those things were true. They were true, except for one word.

"Was she?" Minah cooed, cradling her head in the palms of her hands. The fascinated look she gave him was almost embarrassing. Was he really so cold that the sight of him feeling something was this awe-inspiring?

"Yes," he answered, gripping onto his reasons to remain calm and not let his distress rain down on his new friend. "We drank together and she told me stories. And she reads books, too."

Listing off those things was so much harder when he could hear the taboo behind them, knocking and knocking, but he wouldn't answer the door. For once, he had to try and be joyful about something.

Minah smiled still. She was pretty when she smiled. "Well, she sounds very lovely," she replied with something in her voice that made Yoongi think of clouds.

"Yes," he agreed, sighing, but not because he was in love. "H- She was."

* * *

"This way, Yoongi," whispered the small voice as they carried on, hand in hand.

The sun beat down on his back like angry fists, sending sweat dripping down his cheeks, and he wished he could curl up and hide. "Where are we going?" Yoongi asked, fear tingling across his chest. The secretiveness of this made him nervous.

Youngjae didn't have the time to look him in the face. "Away from your father," he replied in his most clipped tone. Yoongi didn't like it when he sounded that way. He liked it when Youngjae laughed and made silly jokes.

"Did we do something bad?" questioned a still innocent Yoongi. The only thing that scared him more than a serious Youngjae was the thought of his father chasing them down like a predator.

"Your father thinks so," Youngjae explained gently, tightening his small hand around Yoongi's even smaller one. "And that is what matters."

Yoongi turned his head, looking back at the huge castle watching over them from the top of the hill. His home.

Where was Youngjae taking him? How long were they leaving for? Forever? Would he ever see his mother again?

Questions raced through his head like running horses, and he felt his heartbeat rise and fall in waves of panic. He was unsure of what to feel, and whom to feel it about. Sad, frightened, angry. At his father, or even at Youngjae.

It was all very uncertain, but as they walked on together, he soon found that he didn't need to know the answer to these questions.

There was so much time that he spent glancing back at the huge castle, confused. But the last time that he did this, too far within his line of sight was a tall, dark figure that reminded him of a bear marching after them.

Yoongi's heartbeat took its final peak as he realized who it was.

"Jae," he fretted in a feeble whisper, tugging on his hand. "We have to run."

"What?" asked the taller boy, directing his eyes down at him in curiosity.

"My father," Yoongi almost pleaded, trying to pull him along as he forced his legs to move faster. "He's close. We have to run!"

With a single glance in the other direction and a hitch of his breath, Youngjae finally grasped onto what he meant.

But by then, it was too late.

The two of them began to run together over an endless hill, both electrified by fear of the human being right on their tail, but they were only boys, and Yoongi's father was a man.

"Yoongi!" the man yelled, and his voice was the sound of glass breaking, of flames burning a forest to the ground. "Stop right where you are before I beat the daylights out of you!"

Little Yoongi was numb with terror as he sprinted, seeing flashes of the grass and the sun and the blue of the sky. For a moment, he thought his pure contempt for the stone-cold king could grant him freedom.

And he was close. So close. With just a few more steps every second, he might have made it.

But instead, fate hit him like a falling boulder when strong arms clutched him with all their might, leaving him breathless.

Panic shocking through his body like lightening, he struggled. "No!" he yelped, scratching at the strong arms that trapped him. There was a thousand pound weight on his chest, and his eyes saw nothing, and his ears heard less. In that moment, the only thing he knew was escape.

"Yoongi!" gasped Youngjae from mere feet away, and when Yoongi forced his eyes open again, he saw his friend's horrified face, drained of all color. His father's arms gripped him tighter the more he writhed, and Yoongi had never felt so trapped, so vulnerable.

"Jae!" his little voice screamed as his eyes filled with tears. The hot sun made them shine as they poured down his cheeks. "Jae, help!"

Youngjae stood there, frozen in fear at the sight of his dearest friend being dragged away from him. Yoongi reached for him as he struggled, his little hands desperate to be grabbed by someone that was not his father.

But Youngjae could only stand there, watching.

"J-Jae-"

"Be quiet," the king snarled, smacking him upside the head as he tried to regain his balance. Yoongi was a small child, but he had willpower twice the size of his body. It was enough to stagger his father's steps. "He's only a dream, so you will forget him quickly."

Yoongi's world felt so hazy as he continued to sob and jerk his body, and he wondered for a moment if Youngjae really was a dream. As his father began to trudge towards the castle, he wondered if his friend was only a pleasant dream that he'd concocted to comfort himself.

Just a dream...

"Yoongi, I'm real!"

in a shaky breath, Yoongi snapped his head around, and found that Youngjae still stood there, on the verge of tears himself. "I'm real, so don't forget me!" he cried.

And Yoongi knew, better than anything, that he would never forget.

* * *

Yoongi wandered through the halls, kicking the floor with his boots as he went.

Thinking about everything wrong with what he was feeling would not help him, so he tried to clear his mind. One night. That was as long as he had known Jimin. There was no way he was in love, or anything close to it, for that matter.

It was only his brain being foolish.

The right, mature thing to do was to treat this situation as if it were a mere friendship. Jimin didn't really know who he was anyhow. Yoongi was only having fantasies because he was still young and prone to naivety, and it was ridiculous.

He wasn't made to feel anything. His father had taught him that.

With an echoing shuffling sound, his feet came to a stop in front of a room. It was another nonsensically large room, and one he was still not very familiar with. Mostly because he tried his best to ignore it.

No. No he did not feel anything for Jimin. That was something he had to thoroughly convince himself of, until it was ingrained as far in his brain as colors and numbers and how to put one foot in front of the other.

But even so, there was one last thing he owed to the boy. One last thing that he must say, he wouldn't mind giving to him.

The door opened under his fingers' command  with a click, and oddly enough, when it squeaked open in protest, the only person inside the vast room was exactly the person he hoped to see.

He straightened out his clothes, perhaps in an attempt to maintain his intimidating persona. And then, when he worked up the initiative, "Sojin," he called out to the daydreaming girl, who was gazing out the endless window, just like Yoongi did so often.

Silently, she turned her head to acknowledge him, and there was something uneasy in the way her body stiffened when she heard his voice.

It was a shock to the both of them that he was speaking to her, much less doing it for a reason other than chastising her while she sat quietly and listened.

Clearing his throat, he readied his words on his tongue. It took a lot of willpower to summon them, but Yoongi had willpower twice the size of his body.

"Can we go over the dance again?" he asked. "I want to do it correctly this time."

-

literally i am so sorry this chapter took so long. oh my lord. why am i the slowest author in the known world

also hoOrAy for intense flashbacks !! poor baby yoongi got played :(