Summary: Seokjin is tired of this game.

I haven't had time to write anything new, but I found this completed in my draft folders. 

Warning: domestic violence, abuse, drug usage, unhealthy relationship

Seokjin pressed a wash cloth against his cheek.

The blood appeared as fast as he washed it off, there was no point in cleaning.

He rubbed the alcohol on it, it stung his skin, but this was nothing compared to the initial burn.

This song and dance happened more frequently than they’d like to admit.

It started simple.

Yoongi arrived home late with a bouquet of flowers, a compliment “You look beautiful, you always look beautiful, my Seokjinnie,” and a kiss at the door. The kiss turned to more, Seokjin cradled Yoongi’s head as he into his mouth, as he led them to the bathroom. It got worse from there.

The doorbell rang.

Seokjin shuddered. He took a deep breath, exhaled and went to open the door.

It was Yoongi.

Yoongi gnawing his bottom lip and having a hard time meeting Seokjin’s gaze.

Yoongi gnawing his lip and catching the guaze on Seonjin’s neck and somehow becoming smaller than he already was.

Yoongi coughed, “I’m sorry.”

Seokjin waited.

Yoongi’s voice trailed as he spoke, “I didn’t mean to- I couldn’t control myself...”

Seokjin’s heard this one before, that was the excuse for the scar on his back, the scar on his thigh was from a stressful day at work, the one on his forearm from talking to his mom.

“Sorry isn’t enough,” Seokjin sighed.

Yoongi met his gaze, his pupils normal sized, eyes not bloodshot, both good signs.

“I know it’s not enough, but I’ll try harder,” Yoongi reached out to Seokjin, Seokjin flinched. Yoongi hesitated, he gently touched Seokjin’s cheek, “I love you…”

The excuse for the first black eye.

Seokjin’s eyes went to Yoongi’s pale arm, black veins interlocking with each other. Seokjin met Yoongi’s gaze, his honest regret filled expression, tears threatening to spill.

Seokjin remembered their last year of high school, with a gift of matching silver rings and a promise of forever. How naïve was he to believe in that toothy wide grin, in a hug, a kiss, an ideal fantasy where society wasn’t against them.

Seokjin reached for Yoongi’s hand, felt the silver band on his ring finger, “I love you.”

Yoongi blinked back tears, a smile of relief.

“You have to promise me something,” Seokjin whispered.

“Anything.”

“Go to rehab,” Seokjin said, Yoongi stiffened, Seokjin continued, “this isn’t healthy for either of us, and you know it.”

Seokjin kissed Yoongi’s fingers, “Please.”

Yoongi trembled, his gaze dropped to the floor, Seokjin loosened his grip on Yoongi’s hand. They’ve had this conversation before, the excuse for the third black eye.

“Okay.”

Seokjin stood up straighter, Yoongi squeezed his hand, “Tomorrow, I’ll go to the hospital, see if they can find a place for me.”

And then he smiled, “I’m sorry.”

Seokjin cried, “You promise?”

“I promise,” Yoongi repeated. A small smile, a of Seokjin’s cheek, a kiss to his lips, tender, soft, nothing like the hungry ones from that evening. Something more akin to a young boy, who forgot his greetings when Seokjin answered the front door, whose palms sweat through the entire movie, whom walked too slowly when Seokjin was returned home, whose mouth was dry when Seokjin kissed him good bye.

“The stars, they shine for you,” Yoongi mumbled into Seokjin’s bangs.

Seokjin pressed a kiss to Yoongi’s palm.

“They shine for you too,” he promised, “They’re not giving up on you, not yet.”