(trigger warning: mentions of suicide)

Min Yoongi was a mess. He was nervous and pacing in the motel room he had been in for about a week now.

He heard a knock on the door and knew it was housekeeping but still froze.

He’d been ignoring their calls all week and thought they would have given up by now, considering he hadn’t left the room once.

His shabby little hotel room was a mess.

He had pushed the bed into the corner of the room and his belongings were scattered all around the room. Empty cans and wrappers were left about the room.

A small suitcase was left open on the floor, its contents sprawled about.

He waited a few minutes frozen until he was sure housekeeping had left. When he knew they had finally given up he reached into his pocket for his lighter.

It had become a nervous habit for him; to switch the lighter on and off.

He liked staring at the flame. Watching it flicker eased him.

On and off; he liked having power, he liked controlling the flame.

It gave him a sense of superiority.

The flame from the lighter made him feel so much better than anyone else did in his life.

Min Yoongi was running away. He had been beaten down all his life. He was sick of people judging him, misunderstanding him. Calling him crazy. Too impulsive. He didn’t need them.

It was okay though, the flames calmed him down.

As a child, Yoongi would sit in front of the fireplace for hours on end, completely absorbed by the wonder the flames brought him.

He would stare until his eyes hurt and he was too hot to continue, until his legs felt numb from staying still too long.

It then gradually turned to lighting pretty candles in his room to burning papers full of his feelings in his backyard and then to setting fires to rubbish bins for the thrill of it.

More and more destructive every time. More and more ease in Yoongi’s heart every time.

He always had his lighter with him these days. No one understood him. Fire was a good thing! Did they not see how beautiful it was?

Switching the lighter off again, Yoongi groaned in frustration.

He didn’t like hiding, he didn’t like running.

He rummaged through the contents of the suitcase looking for a pen. He found a black marker and stood up, stepping onto his bed and sat cross-legged facing the wall.

He began writing on a section of the wall where the paper had been ripped off.

Pouring his thoughts out, it had all suddenly become real. All the pain that he had gone through was there, physical and real. It wasn’t a lie. He felt the pent up anger burn through his throat and let out a scream.

At least now the people working there knew that he was alive and not just some rotting corpse or a burden they’d have to deal with later.

He turned around, his legs now dangling off the bed and pulled at his hair, deep in thought and tangled in frustration.

He saved her, he wasn’t a criminal, why didn’t anyone understand?

He let himself fall backwards to lie down on the bed.

He stayed like that, watching the clock on the wall, watching the hands slowly pull themselves forward. Yoongi was too aware of the ticking. It was too loud. Yoongi didn’t like it.

It was a reminder that he was being searched for.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He got up and threw the clock outside the window, satisfied at hearing its destruction.

Yoongi’s mind was full of sirens. Full of noises. He reached for his pocket and touched the lighter. He couldn’t take it anymore. His mind was racing with thoughts. Nobody understood him. Nobody cared for him. He was all alone in the world.

All he ever did was try to get rid of pain. Try to get rid of people’s hurt. All he got in return was more pain. Why couldn’t anyone see that he was trying to help?

The memories flashed back of her. She tried understanding, but she gave up on him too.

The memories of her screaming at him pierced his mind. She was in too much pain because of him.

Yoongi only knew of one way to get rid of pain. She’d rather die than be in so much pain because of him.

He wanted to save her. So he did.

The images played again and again in his mind, he tried to make her understand that it would help but she just wouldn’t listen. He doused her in the liquid.

“I’m trying to save you!” he shouted at her “we’ll be together soon” he whispered as he threw the match in her direction. He ignored her screams of agony knowing that she’d be safe now.

He knew what to do. He’d have to get rid of his own pain.

He’d get rid of his own pain and the fire would help him.

He reached under his bed for the canister of gasoline that he had kept earlier. Opening it proved difficult with the many burns Yoongi had plastered on his hands. He felt tears run down his cheeks. He wiped them away and managed to open the canister.

It was okay now, he’ll be okay now.

He lifted the canister up and threw its contents all over the walls, not missing that one section of wall where he had written down those dreadful words.

He threw the empty canister onto the bed and reached for his pocket once more.

He pulled out the lighter and pressed it to his lips and then gestured towards the sky with it.

He flicked the lighter on one last time; only this time he didn’t allow himself to switch it off again.

With one last admiring glance at the flame dancing around, he threw the lighter to the ground. The flames spread quickly, lighting up everything on sight in mere seconds, spreading from the floor to engulfing the curtains with a mighty roar and eating the room whole, leaving nothing alone.

“I told you I’d be joining you!” he screamed his voice cracking. “I told you there was nothing to worry about!” he shouted again.

“Now we’re both at peace” he whispered, breathing in the toxic gas. He felt his lungs burning, filling up with smoke, his breath shortening.

He felt so hot, he was burning.

He collapsed onto the floor before the flames took him. Min Yoongi was freed.

A few days later, in a house not far from the burnt down motel, a television was switched on.

Kim Namjoon wasn’t really paying attention to the news.

However, his ears pricked at the name of a certain boy “who had previously been found guilty of the murder of his ex-girlfriend”.

Namjoon was aware of this. He wasn’t aware why Min Yoongi was on the news yet again. He tried finding out with no such luck.

He picked up his phone from his side and searched Min Yoongi’s name.

Min Yoongi had committed suicide along with the murder of 7 other people a few nights ago.

Namjoon sighed, not knowing how to react to the news of his friend’s death. He just needed to be by himself.