Seven boys with one heart.
One boy with seven hearts.
One and seven are each other's reflection in the water.
How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man?
A road is another name for a world.
Night, day, intersection and tunnel.
The road constantly splits.
Always alone in the moment of choosing.
Around the corner.
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Year 22
Thankfully, Yoongi cut the right wire.
The alarm didn't sound as he prized open the window and climbed in over the sill. The shadows from the chairs and tables around the room gave him the shivers, but when he laid eyes on the brown, upright Yamaha, everything else, all the fear, all the shame, fell away.
He was back here again.
The moon shone in as he padded his way over to the piano bench, the lid still open, the white keys reflecting in the night's glow that came in through the glass. He pressed his finger down on the middle C, hearing the noise ring out through the old classroom. It was like slipping into a warm bath to soothe a deep ache in your body.
He began with his scales, just like his Mom had taught him, warming up his fingers before cracking them forward, readying to play his song.
No, Jungkook's song, he corrected himself.
It was the piece he had played when Jungkook sat next to him on the bench, and he played it as if he was reviving his dongsang's spirit from another dimension, remembering how the younger looked in the light of the moon, the curve of his waist and the blush of his cheeks. In the music, they could exist together in a time that wasn't real, where their hardships didn't matter, where the memory of sitting beside one another at the piano was enough. A time when they could be free.
Yoongi ached for Jungkook. It had been two years since he had argued with his dongsang at the door to his motel room. He had charged his phone the moment the younger had left but the group chat stayed silent, and Yoongi didn't want to be the first to reach out, thinking how Jungkook would have told them about their fight, how they probably thought they were better off without him with them if he wasn't even going to bother keeping in contact. Yoongi didn't blame them one bit. He was angry at himself too.
Hoseok and Jimin were in the hospital anyway, and what could he do about that? Taehyung, Namjoon and Seokjin hadn't bothered to text, and he was certain he had pushed Jungkook away, past the point of no return.
But here, in the silence of the old classroom, he could remember how it used to be.
Their laughter, their jokes, their music, their dance. It was all here. The ghosts of all seven of them were still here, trapped in the old classroom for all eternity and Yoongi was the fool who kept coming back and playing the piano till his fingers ached, wishing things would be different.
But Yoongi knew things were better this way. They were the only good thing that had ever happened to him, but good things always burnt to the ground, and it was better for them to get out whilst they could, whilst they could still save themselves from him and his disaster of a life.
Yoongi stopped playing. He finally took his rucksack off his back and brought it around to his lap, unzipping the top and taking out a few sheets of composition paper. He placed it on the piano stand in front of him and took out a pencil, starting to fill in the rest of the notes from where he'd finished earlier. He would finish the piece, he told himself. He would finish it because he would finish something in his God damn life, even if it was painful. He would have something to show for his pain, proof that he'd had something worth missing to begin with.
He missed Jungkook.
Just then, his phone began to vibrate, and Yoongi put the pencil down on the ridge of the stand. He delved into his pocket and brought the handset out to see the caller ID.
It was Hoseok.
Yoongi looked down and blinked a few times, wondering if he was imagining who was calling. Then, the phone rang off and Yoongi looked down at the 1 Missed Call notification with Hoseok's name next to it.
Then, his dongsang was phoning him again.
Yoongi picked up.
"Hello?" he half-asked.
"Yoongi hyung?"
Yoongi resisted the urge to call him Seok Seok-ah like he used to.
"Yeah," he replied, noncommittally.
"It's Hoseokie," the younger replied.
Fuck, it was good to hear his voice.
"Been a long time," replied Yoongi. "Are you okay? I thought you were in the hospital."
"Yeah, I'm okay. I got out," explained Hoseok. "Jimin got out too but…" he trailed off. The seconds ticked by as neither of them spoke. "Listen, hyung. It's about Jungkook."
Yoongi's blood ran cold. "What about Jungkook?"
"Do you guys speak?"
Yoongi didn't want to answer that question, so he didn't. He stayed silent, listening to Hoseok's gentle breath down the receiver.
"I need you call him," Hoseok added.
"He won't want to talk to me."
"Please, hyung," said Hoseok. "Please. Call him. I'm worried about him."
Yoongi didn't reply.
"Hyung. He needs you."
Yoongi said nothing, and then the line went dead with a beep in his ear and Yoongi brought the phone down to look at it. He thought about calling Hoseok back, scrolling through his contacts until he found Hoseok's name. And directly below it was Jungkook.
Yoongi looked at Jungkook's name, then back to Hoseok's… and back again.
Hyung. He needs you, Hoseok had said.
If Yoongi called him and Jungkook chose not to pick up, then he would have Hoseok off his conscience. He would have tried at least.
Yoongi pressed Jungkook's name and held the phone to his ear. It rang once, twice, three times. On the fourth time, the phone picked up.
"Hyung," said Jungkook.
Yoongi was stunned to silence. He said nothing for a few beats, just gently breathing, working up the courage to reply.
"Hyung, is that you?" Jungkook asked. Yoongi could hear the wind through the receiver, but Jungkook's voice was loud and clear.
"Yeah, Jungkook-ah. It's hyung," he replied, his voice pinched.
"Hyung," Jungkook breathed. It sounded to Yoongi like a sigh of relief and his insides curled up.
The wind got stronger, rattling the phone. "Where are you?" Yoongi asked.
It was Jungkook's turn not to reply.
"Jungkook-ah, where are you?"
"I'm…" he trailed off. "I'm up in the clouds, hyung."
"What do you mean? Are you drunk?"
"No," chuckled Jungkook. "I'm… I'm up high. I – I wanted to see the sunset," he said, sounding wistful.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Yoongi didn't like Jungkook's choice of words.
"Did you see it? The sunset?" Yoongi asked, not betraying his panic in his voice as he stuffed the composition paper back into his rucksack along with his pencil. He zipped the bag shut by shoving it between his legs and closing it awkwardly with one hand.
"Yeah, hyung. I saw it," Jungkook replied.
"What else can you see?" Yoongi asked, as he hurried over to the window and climbed out. He scampered through the grass and onto the pavement. He began jog, trying not to alert Jungkook to his heavy breaths or the thud of his feet. No, no, no, no, he thought as he ran. He would not lose Jungkook. He hadn't been able to save his Mom but he could save Jungkook, he told himself.
"I can see the Samsung tower," Jungkook replied. "I've been watching the billboard."
"Anything good?" Yoongi asked as he full-on sprinted into the city, putting Jungkook on speakerphone to talk whilst he ran. He careened forward, propelling his feet as fast as they would carry him as Jungkook listed off the advertisements he had seen on the billboard, with Yoongi giving a shaky 'mhm' between each one. With his quick pace, he managed to get into the fringes of the city quickly.
"Why did you call me, hyung?" asked Jungkook after a beat. Yoongi could see the Samsung tower up ahead and the billboard facing out. Jungkook had to be somewhere up high around there. He could make it in a few minutes if he kept his pace up. "We haven't talked in two years. Why did you call? Why now?"
Because Hoseok knew something was up. He knew you were going to kill yourself tonight and he knew that the only person you would listen to would be me. Because for some God damn reason you still cling onto the idea of me, that I'm someone I'm not.
But he didn't say any of this to Jungkook. Instead, he drew a deep breath and pushed his feet further.
"Because it's been two years and the last words I said to you were in anger, Jungkook-ah," he replied. "I don't want that to be how things were left between us."
Jungkook said nothing, giving Yoongi a few seconds to look around, trying to calculate which kind of building Jungkook could be on. Then, he saw it, the construction site across the street from the Samsung building, with the back door wide open. Yoongi looked up and saw a figure on top of the building. He knew it was Jungkook.
"Why has it taken you two years to care?" Jungkook asked. His voice was sounding more and more deflated as their conversation went on.
Yoongi bolted for the back door, through the threshold and darted up the stairs, knowing he had to go all the way to the top, ignoring the burn in his thighs.
"Because I'm an asshole," said Yoongi, honestly. "I'm an asshole and I only hurt the people who care about me."
"I don't think that's true," Jungkook said, meekly.
Yoongi finally reached the top and dashed through the open door, onto the roof where Jungkook stood with his back to him, looking out onto the city skyline, his hair flapping in the wind.
"Jungkook-ah," Yoongi said, not into the phone but at his dongsang, who turned and on seeing Yoongi, lowered the phone from his ear.
Yoongi hung up the phone and slid it into his pocket.
"How did you find me?" Jungkook asked, doing the same.
Yoongi shrugged. "Just did."
He walked further towards Jungkook, who turned back to the landscape and looked out, his hands on the railings in front of him. Yoongi mirrored him, standing shoulder to shoulder next to his dongsang.
"What are you doing up here, Jungkook-ah?" he asked.
"The sunset –,"
"No. Really."
Jungkook looked down at the ground below them. "I was going to jump," he whispered.
I know, Yoongi wanted to say.
"I can't let you do that," Yoongi replied.
"Why?" asked Jungkook, finally turning to him.
Because you're the only true and honest thing in this God-forsaken world. You are innocent in your plight, you are the rarest form of love, you are pure and precious and –
But Yoongi said none of that. He only reached out his hand to touch the back of Jungkook's. "Because you don't deserve that ending, Jungkook-ah," he replied, softly.
The sweat on Yoongi's back began to cool, as he shivered against the wind.
"Are you cold, hyung?" asked Jungkook.
Yoongi took his hand away and pulled at his t-shirt, sticky on his back.
Without a word, Jungkook took his orange and white checked flannel from around his shoulders and held it out to Yoongi.
"I can't," Yoongi said, waving his hand.
"Take it," Jungkook insisted, jiggling the fabric towards him.
Jungkook didn't shiver in the wind, probably on account of the adrenalin, so Yoongi took the flannel and threaded his arms through the sleeves, pulling it over his shoulders.
It smelt like Jungkook, the same smell that Yoongi would have on his sheets the morning after the night before, as he would wake to Jungkook whistling cheerily whilst taking a shower.
"Do you still play, hyung?" Jungkook asked.
Yoongi wanted to tell him that he still played his song.
"I didn't for a while…" Yoongi said, trailing off. No further explanation was needed between them, but Yoongi didn't want to admit that he went back to the old classroom, like that place still mattered to him. It was too painful to acknowledge.
"Your music, hyung…" Jungkook said airily. "I think about dying a dozen times a day, but when I listen to your music, I want to live."
Yoongi held back the tears that were forming in his eyes.
"Where are you staying?" he asked instead.
Jungkook shuffled his feet against the concrete. "Sometimes I go home."
"Sometimes?"
"My step-brother is serving right now," replied Jungkook. "But my step-dad is still an asshole."
"Are you safe?" Yoongi asked.
Jungkook didn't reply. "Sometimes I stay with Hoseokie hyung."
"You should be safe," Yoongi replied, nudging Jungkook towards the door to the rooftop. "I'll walk you, Jungkook-ah."
Yoongi desperately wanted to take Jungkook to the motel, with every fibre of his being, to wrap him up in the duvet and hold him close to his chest and tell him everything was going to be alright. But he knew deep down inside of him it was a bad idea. He could trust Hoseok, just as Hoseok had trusted him with Jungkook's life, he could trust his dongsang with Jungkook's life too.
They walked down the stairs and out onto the street, side by side, neither of them talking as they walked along the path towards Hoseok's attic.
The cars drove past them, the rush of wind whipping their hair into knots as they turned off the main stretch and up a side road, down another and then another until they were on the street of Hoseok's attic. They said nothing to each other whilst they walked, just the simple act of being in each other's company seemed enough to placate them both, both their hands dug deep into their pockets.
As Yoongi and Jungkook approached the front of Hoseok's block, Yoongi took out his phone and called the younger, waiting for him to answer. Rather than take the call, Hoseok appeared at the door, swaddled in an oversized hoodie, and looking exhausted.
He darted out of the door and threw himself at Jungkook, clinging to him tightly as the younger buried his face in his hyung's neck. Yoongi wanted to join them and put his arms around them both but kept back, averting his gaze as if he were intruding on a precious moment.
Hoseok stepped out of Jungkook's embrace and cupped his cheeks, then looked over at Yoongi, giving a silent nod of thanks that only the elder could decode.
"Are you alright?" Yoongi asked Hoseok.
"Seokjin is back," Hoseok said instead, looking between them both. "And Namjoon."
Yoongi hadn't been aware that they had gone.
"Taehyung called me the other day too," he added.
"We should go to the sea again," Jungkook piped up, still clinging onto Hoseok. "All of us, together."
Hoseok nodded. "That's a good idea. Yoongi?" he asked, turning to his hyung.
The string of fate was drawing them back together. Although tentative, Yoongi couldn't help but agree. "Yeah, we should go," he said, quietly, scuffing his foot on the path.
"Good," replied Hoseok, ushering Jungkook inside. "Goodnight, hyung."
It wasn't until Hoseok closed the door behind them that Yoongi realised he was still wearing Jungkook's flannel.
Yoongi walked back through the city. The lights of the late-night shops were bright as he passed, ignoring the sound of cans being kicked down dark alleyways and the shouts of drunks falling out of the bars. Yoongi was desperate for a drink, thinking about the bottle of whisky he had back at the motel, making himself walk faster despite the ache that was beginning to set into his legs.
Fuck, he had seen Jungkook again. After all that time apart, all the time wondering where he was and what he was up to, he'd found Jungkook standing on top of the building ready to jump as if he hadn't a care in the world. And perhaps he hadn't Yoongi thought, as he rounded into the motel lobby and hurried up the stairs.
Yoongi's thoughts suddenly turned to anger, as he stomped up the stairs and pushed the door to his motel room open a little harder than he'd meant to. Jungkook was going to end it all, and just like that. For what? He was willing to leave them all behind to grieve for him without a thought? Without a thought for Yoongi? For the pain and devastation he would leave behind? Jungkook would make that choice knowing Yoongi would be left to pick up the pieces afterwards. He had done that once already, and Jungkook knew that, and even still that's what he chose?
No, Yoongi had given up the right to be angry about Jungkook, he said in his mind. He'd given that up the moment he'd slammed the motel door shut after their argument. He'd walked away, Yoongi reminded himself, and so had Jungkook. He wasn't allowed to think of his dongsang like that. They hadn't spoken in two years, Yoongi had no right to feel that kind of pain.
Yoongi flopped down onto the bed and reached out for his phone charger, plugging it into the handset and watching it light up in response. He opened his text thread to Jungkook, the date on his last message from his dongsang being Year 20. It felt like longer, and still, somehow, like only yesterday.
Just then, his phone vibrated in his hand and a drop-down notification was on the top of the screen.
Sailors, with an anchor emoji.
meet tomorrow at the freights, Hoseok had typed.
oh hyung!
i'll be late
ur always late
Yoongi smiled at his phone.
i'll be there, he typed.
ur alive?! Taehyung replied.
Yoongi snorted.
it will take a lot to get rid of me, brat, he typed back.
When they eventually got there, after the awkward hellos were over with, they realised the freight train was a mess.
They had left it in the worst state Yoongi had ever seen it, not one of them thinking to return after their last meeting to clean it up. It hadn't mattered though; they'd still put on some music through the Bluetooth speaker and drained the bottles of liquor and laughed and joked with each other as if two years hadn't passed at all.
Yoongi staggered around, looking at the sweets on the makeshift table that had melted together, sticky with spilt liquor that had fused the deck of playing cards flush against the surface. Yoongi tried to scratch them off the wood with his thumbnail, but the edges tore and frayed.
It didn't matter because Namjoon was rolling the fattest joint that Yoongi had seen in his life, and Taehyung was mixing soda with lethal doses of vodka and Seokjin was letting Jimin and Jungkook beat him at cards just so that he could give them some money. Everything was just as it used to be, as if no time had passed at all, and Taehyung's sister's fairy lights were illuminating the train beautifully.
Yoongi smiled to himself, as he downed another large gulp of whisky.
In the corner, Hoseok was dancing, high as a kite with his arms in the air, a red solo cup of one of Taehyung's concoctions loose in his fingers.
"How are you getting home?" Yoongi asked, stumbling over his own feet towards Hoseok.
Hoseok couldn't hear him over his dreamy high. The weed wasn't having the same effect on Yoongi.
"Seok seok-ah," he said, tapping his dongsang's shoulder. "How are you getting home?"
"I don't know," Hoseok shrugged, looking at Yoongi with glazed eyes.
Suddenly, Jimin appeared beside them. "I'll take him home," he said, with an arm around Hoseok's waist.
"Jiminie," Hoseok cooed, cupping the younger's face in his hands.
"That's me, Hoseokie hyung," Jimin replied dryly, pushing him out of the door of the freight, into the cold night.
"Will you be alright?" Yoongi asked.
"I didn't smoke and I'm not that drunk," explained Jimin, as he jumped down next to Hoseok, who was vomiting on all fours onto the gravel below. "We'll be okay."
Yoongi smirked and gave Jimin a nod.
"Who wants to walk back to mine and smoke this?" Namjoon asked no one in particular, getting up from his place on the ground.
"Me," said Taehyung, rolling to a standing position.
"I'm gonna go too," said Seokjin, following them out. He swayed slightly as he walked. "I don't want to drink anymore and I'm getting cold."
"Let us know when you get back safe, hyung," said Taehyung, as they all stepped outside.
"Later," Seokjin said, clapping a hand on Yoongi's shoulder.
"Later," Yoongi replied.
The chatter died down until Yoongi realised it was just him and Jungkook left in the freight. The younger was lounging over the sofa that they had somehow managed to haul into the train, his legs over the side of the arm, one hand behind his head, the other on his belly, as if he were looking up at the stars.
"How are you getting home tonight?" asked Yoongi. His voice sounded loud in the empty space.
"I'm not going home," Jungkook replied.
"Did you want to catch up with Hoseok and Jimin?"
Jungkook shook his head. "No. I'll stay here."
"You can't stay here," scoffed Yoongi, edging nearer to Jungkook.
But Jungkook just shrugged. "I do it all the time."
Yoongi stilled for a moment, thinking of all the times Jungkook had curled up on the sofa beneath thin, moth-eaten blankets, with nowhere better to go. He thought about how his dongsang would have likely shivered in the cold, barely able to sleep, with nothing proper to eat on waking.
"It's not safe for you to be here," Yoongi whispered.
"It's not like I have anywhere else to go," Jungkook replied, his voice becoming hardened.
No, because you used to stay with me, thought Yoongi. You used to come home with me, and you were safe, but I pushed you away because I'm bad for you, because I didn't want you to be caught up in the bad things that happen to me. I wanted to save you from the pain the universe inflicts on me.
Yoongi picked up the whisky bottle and downed it, feeling the burn in his lungs, but craving more. The buzz of the alcohol coursed through his veins in the silence that followed, as Jungkook watched him brace himself against the table.
The only good thing Yoongi had ever done in his life was to talk Jungkook down from the tower that night. He had managed to prolong Jungkook's life for one more day, and in turn, prolonged the pain that was his life. So even then, saving Jungkook was selfish of him, because he wanted Jungkook to live even when the younger chose to die.
Just like his mother.
Fuck.
Jungkook wanted to leave Yoongi behind just like his Mom.
Tears began to prickle behind Yoongi's eyes. He didn't want to think about his mother. He didn't want to remember the smell of smoke or the heat from the walls that woke him up, having to jump from the first floor of his house to make it out alive, standing back and watching the house burn and crumble to the ground before his eyes, knowing his Mom was inside, knowing that there was nothing he could do to save her.
Knowing she was dying without him by her side. Alone.
Jungkook had stood on top of the tower and made the same choice she had.
"You should stop drinking, hyung," Jungkook whispered, breaking Yoongi from his thoughts.
"Why?" Yoongi asked.
Jungkook chose to die. He used to stay with me. She was dying without him by her side. Yoongi's head was starting to pound. He should have called Jungkook right after their fight. He should have run after Jungkook and apologised. He should have noticed the signs in his Mom's eyes. He should have tried to stop what was happening. He should have tried to save her like he tried to save Jungkook. Could he stop Jungkook from making that choice again? Did he have a right to? Jungkook wanted to die. Jungkook wanted to die.
He didn't hear Jungkook get up off the sofa. The younger appeared beside him.
"You never used to drink this much," Jungkook replied. "Before –,"
He cut himself off. Before had been unspoken between them until now.
Before our fight. Before I failed you. Before I realised I'm powerless to stop the people I love from leaving me behind to grieve them.
"Before is in the past, Jungkook-ah," Yoongi whispered, straightening up to look at his dongsang.
"We don't talk about it," said Jungkook, quietly. Jungkook didn't have to be explicit for Yoongi to know what he meant. "We've never talked about."
Talking about it would make it real, and Yoongi wanted it so badly to be real. But it was gone, in the past, like a dream you clung to in the haze of waking.
Yoongi wagged his finger and laughed bitterly. "You know, we had two years to talk about it. This isn't on just me –"
"Your phone was off half the time –,"
Yoongi gave a low chuckle. "You knew where I lived."
"I came to you!"
"After, Jungkook! After!"
"You didn't want to see me!"
"I never said that!" Yoongi cried. "I never fucking said I didn't want to see you!"
"That's how you made me feel!" retorted Jungkook, jabbing his finger into his own chest. "And you never called me –,"
"You were going to jump that night," Yoongi said, his voice all of a sudden growing quieter. He couldn't get it out of his head.
Jungkook flared his nostrils and looked away. "I don't want to talk about that night –,"
"You were going to fucking jump, Jungkook, and I only knew because Hoseok called me!" cried Yoongi. "You were just going to fucking leave without saying a word, without saying anything. You were going to die alone on the top of that tower, and I wouldn't have –,"
"Don't pretend like you give a shit about me now, hyung. You had two years to give a shit."
"You think I didn't care for two years? You were all I fucking thought about!" Yoongi's voice was pitching higher now. "I thought about you every day. I wondered where you were. What you were doing. Who you were with –,"
"Well why didn't you fucking say anything then?!" shrieked Jungkook. His eyes were beginning to fill with tears.
"Because I was trying to protect you! Because I'm no good for you, Jungkook," said Yoongi, defeatedly. "That's what it all comes down to. When I'm in your life, all I do is cause you pain, and when I'm out of it, it's just all the same."
The tears were rolling down Jungkook's cheeks, big and fat. The younger was on the verge of sobbing.
"If Hoseok hadn't called me, you'd be dead," Yoongi told him. "Your death would be on my hands, and I'd never fucking forgive myself – and you were so close, Jungkook."
He blamed himself for his mother's death every day, and for Jungkook's suffering and for his own. Yoongi's eyes suddenly began to fill with tears, the rage and sadness bubbling up inside of him like a kettle boiling over as he swiped his arms across the table and pushed everything off. It all clattered to the ground with a crash and Jungkook pounced on him, grabbing at his front to try and hold him down.
"GET OFF ME!" Yoongi bellowed, shrugging Jungkook's arms from his body, the younger stumbling back.
But Jungkook drove forward, throwing his arms around Yoongi who tried to wrestle out of his grip once more. "LET ME GO!" he demanded, as Jungkook stumbled back against the freight wall. The younger was sobbing, tears streaming down his cheeks, which only fuelled Yoongi on to tear the place apart, to wreck everything around him just like the house fire that had collapsed in on itself as it smouldered under the flames.
He just needed it all to stop.
Jungkook looked up and barrelled into Yoongi, fist clenched and punched him in the mouth, anything to wake his hyung from his drunken stupor, most likely. Yoongi stumbled back, numbed from the pain thanks to the alcohol. He wanted Jungkook to hit him again, buzzing with adrenalin, aching for a fight. He'd felt more alive in the last ten seconds than he had in the last ten years.
He squared up to Jungkook and grabbed him by the shirt, searching for resistance, for tension, anything to fuel the fire in his veins, throwing Jungkook aside who stumbled and knocked his ribs against the frame of the sofa.
The younger cried out in pain, clutching his side, and as Yoongi stood over him, he realised that he had just done the very thing he had spent so long trying to avoid. He had hurt Jungkook.
He was no better than Jungkook's stepbrother, his stepfather, his mother. He was just another person in Jungkook's life who he couldn't rely on… who brought him pain…
His worst fear had been realised, and things would never be the same between them again.
"I'm sorry, Jungkook," Yoongi said, throwing his arms out in defeat. "I can't do this anymore. I mean it, I'm done."
"Hyung," Jungkook sobbed from his place on the floor.
Yoongi gripped the back of the chair. He hated the sound of Jungkook's voice. He could hear the hurt and the grief in his vocal cords as he called him. He never wanted to hear that word again.
Yoongi picked up the chair and raised it above his head.
"I SAID I'M DONE, JUNGKOOK!" he bellowed as he threw the chair against the wall, smashing the mirror in the process. It splintered and shattered on the ground with a clatter.
All Yoongi heard after was silence and Jungkook's heavy, terrified breathing.
And they still hadn't talked about it.
It didn't matter anymore.
Yoongi turned on his heels and picked up a can of petrol from the corner that Namjoon had stolen from work for the fire pit. He didn't look back as he strode out of the freight, jumping down onto the gravel and walked away from the train, climbing through the hole in the fence and leaving Jungkook behind.
He had pushed Jungkook away for the last time.
Yoongi staggered towards the city. He was so fucking drunk, enough that he could throw up if he thought about it enough. Instead, he focused on the sound of his footsteps on the ground, one after the other, after the other, trying to ignore his pounding head.
In his mind, he heard the notes of Jungkook's Theme, as if taunting and torturing him, so he quickened his pace, trying to drown out the music with his heavy breathing and thudding footsteps.
He had fucked up, he thought. But he had fucked up for the last time. He knew what the answer was. It was the same answer to the question that his Mom had asked that fateful night, when she had sent Yoongi to bed early with a full belly to make sure he slept through. She'd sat at the piano and played her song, the one she had written when Yoongi was growing inside of her, the love and adoration flowing out of her fingers and onto the keys, the easiest language that Yoongi ever learnt.
She'd grasped Yoongi's hands, as he stood before her in her pyjamas.
"Do you know eomma loves you?" she had asked.
"Yes," Yoongi whispered back.
"I want you to know how much," she had said, grasping Yoongi's fingers tightly. "I have loved you my whole life, Yoongi-ah, before I even had you, I loved you."
Yoongi didn't know what that meant at the time. What child knows of a love like that? But now he knew. He understood perfectly well what it meant to yearn for a love so pure and unconditional before being blessed with it.
Yoongi walked into the motel and up the stairs, thankful that the desk wasn't manned at that time of night. The CCTV would show him walking in with a tank of gas, but by then it would be too late. Yoongi would be gone and so would the motel room and none of it would matter. The pain would be over and Jungkook would be free, and he would see his Mom again. So really, it was a win-win situation, Yoongi thought.
There would be no more pain for any of them.
He unlocked the door to his room and stepped inside. It was only then that he felt the noise in his head drown out into silence but rather than run from it, rather than fill it up with music and song, it felt like for the first time in a long time, Yoongi could think clearly. He'd have to make sure the curtains and carpet were covered with the most with the petrol. They'd go up easily. It didn't matter about the bathroom. He wouldn't be in there. He just had to be consumed with smoke enough for him to pass out, Yoongi thought.
Then, he looked over and saw Jungkook's flannel hanging up on the hook by his bed. He walked over to it and took it off, bringing the cloth up to his nose to smell it. It still smelt like Jungkook.
He shrugged off his hoodie and drew the arms of the flannel around his shoulders, slouching it on, bringing it around his body. It felt like Jungkook's arms were around him and Yoongi stifled a sob. He would never again feel his dongsang's arms holding him tightly, holding him as he drifted into a deep, deep sleep. But he could smell him like this until the smoke got too much, and that would have to be good enough.
Yoongi tipped the petrol all over the room, the fumes of it making the room smell already, until the last drop came down onto the floor. Then, he stood on the mattress and looked around, feeling the shape of the lighter in his pocket. He took it out and clicked the flame on, watching the orange and yellow blur together in his drunken haze.
Yoongi dropped the lighter onto the floor and watched it burn.
Flames shot around the room, along the carpet and up the curtains. There were some parts of the carpet that hadn't caught alight, but that didn't matter. The room was filling with smoke, and Yoongi began to cough, clutching his chest and spluttering as his lungs filled with fumes. He collapsed onto the bed, feeling the heat from all around him, remembering that night when he woke, only this time he was going to sleep.
He was going to see his Mom soon.
Yoongi drifted in and out of consciousness, seeing the flames lick at the ceiling. He closed his eyes and opened them again, unsure of how much time was passing, but enough to know that soon the darkness would fill his vision and the silence would come, and he would be free.
A face appeared before him, but he couldn't see who through the blur of his eyes. The face was gentle, round, long eyelashes, curved cheeks, delicate and soft.
"Mom?" he asked, reaching out a hand to touch the face. Brown hair, and the biggest eyes he had ever seen.
"Hyung," Jungkook said, as Yoongi felt hands under his arms, as Jungkook pulled him from the mattress and onto the floor.
And just like that, Yoongi's world faded to black.
.
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.
He was in the hospital for a while.
Yoongi hated the way the doctors talked about him as if he wasn't even in the room, speaking over his bed as he lay there staring at the ceiling. They discussed psych evaluations, surgery, and a whole lot of medication, until they finally remembered that he was a person and gave him the discharge papers and asked him who his next of kin was.
He didn't have one, he realised.
Yoongi was ushered out of the ward as if patients came in and out on a rotating door, and somehow, Jungkook met Yoongi outside of the hospital. He didn't know how Jungkook knew where he was but figured it had something to do with Seokjin, who he'd asked the kind nurse at the reception desk to call.
Yoongi limped out, with a prescription for pain killers and an appointment for therapy that he was sure he wouldn't attend, but as he saw the sun shining down on Jungkook, illuminating the chestnut threads of his hair, Yoongi reconsidered it for a moment.
Jungkook spotted him exit the hospital and wandered over.
"I'm going to take you to Seokjin hyung's apartment," Jungkook said, by way of a hello.
"Okay," replied Yoongi. His voice was still hoarse from the smoke.
"You can wear some of Jiminie's clothes," he said, holding out a plastic bag full of clothing. "He's about your size."
Yoongi nodded.
"You can't go back to the motel. Obviously."
"Obviously," Yoongi agreed, with an awkward head bob.
"Seokjin hyung is going to help you get back on your feet. The restaurant isn't expecting you back for another two weeks. I called them and told them you were in the hospital," explained Jungkook.
"Thanks."
Jungkook shrugged. "No problem." The two of them stood still in front of each other, neither of them wanting to move and dispel the moment.
"Your flannel," Yoongi began, wincing at his words. "It got burnt in the fire. The hospital threw it out."
"That's okay," Jungkook replied.
"I can get you another one."
The younger shook his head. "I don't want another one."
"Are you sure?" Yoongi asked.
"Too many bad memories," replied Jungkook, and Yoongi felt like he'd been punched in the gut until Jungkook asked, "so how are you feeling?" finally.
"Well," Yoongi began. "They took a skin graft from my ass, and I have a criminal record now, so I'd say it's some and some."
Jungkook began to laugh. It filled Yoongi's heart with light. He looked at Jungkook and smiled to himself, as the younger's nose and eyes crinkled with a faint, breathy giggle. To think he had almost missed out hearing that sound again made his stomach churn.
Jungkook stopped and looked away awkwardly, biting down on his lip. The moment was fast approaching. Yoongi grasped it with both hands. He wasn't going to be afraid anymore.
"We have to start again," Yoongi said, quietly.
"What do you mean?" asked Jungkook, after a beat.
"We've done everything backwards, Jungkook-ah," replied Yoongi, with a gentle shake of his head. "I need to unpick the damage I've caused not only to you but to myself –,"
"Hyung, you didn't –,"
"Jungkook, please," Yoongi sighed. "We need to go back to the beginning, put all the bad stuff behind us and grow from it. We both need to heal."
Hey, maybe he didn't need therapy after all, Yoongi thought.
Jungkook looked down and nodded, digesting his hyung's words.
"Where are you going to stay?" Yoongi asked.
"With Hoseokie hyung," Jungkook replied. "He said I could stay with him."
"That's nice of him," Yoongi mused, as the two of them turned on their heels and began to walk, side by side. Yoongi remembered how he used to want to curl his pinkie finger around Jungkook's. He looked down at Jungkook's hand. "Can we go past the freight on our way? I should probably clean up," he asked.
"I'll help you –,"
"You don't have to –,"
"I want to," Jungkook insisted, stopping in his tracks, insistent and assertive.
Yoongi stopped and looked at him. He remembered the boy that had stood in front of him, a bag of bones with a strong heart. His heart was still strong, Yoongi thought, even after everything he had been through, and Yoongi realised that perhaps he could learn a thing or two from his dongsang.
We have to start again.
There was only one way they could do that. Yoongi had to go back and do things properly, like he should have done from day one. Jungkook had stood in front of him and called him hyung and Yoongi had to accept that Jungkook needed him, just like he needed Jungkook, wanted him, even. Jungkook wanted and chose him, and Yoongi had to respect that sooner or later.
What would be the point if they weren't there for each other? He thought.
Yoongi stepped back regarded Jungkook for a moment. There was so much feeling inside of him, feelings he would find the words to express – one day.
The beginning was a good place to start.
"Friends?" Yoongi asked, extending his hand for Jungkook to take.
Jungkook looked down at it and smiled, taking it firmly. He scrunched his nose and giggled. "Friends," he agreed.
Will the passionate flower from childhood still be in bloom?
What is the direction of the dream?
Fear is another name for hope.
Tear is another name for laughter.