Yoongi pushes his bangs back, little droplets sticking to the ends. His nose scrunches, eyeing his reflection. No more makeup on to hide his dark circles. He sighs. He’s looked worse. His lips twitch, remembering the good times from the tour with the other members—face masks in their hotel rooms, late night noodles, pulling out his equipment to record something someone hummed. It helps alleviate some of the weight in his chest. His reflection frowns back at him. He’s tired, more than he lets on. For the most part he’s been okay, enjoying each stop and the thrill of being on stage buzzing under his skin. And, yes, he doesn’t want to worry his teammates so he tells them he’s fine. He’s healthy … enough. Some of them see through his half-truths more than others, but they don’t stop him. They know what the tour means for all of them. He’ll see it through even if his throat is raw by the end of it.
He slips into his nightwear and pads out of the bathroom. He sinks down on the couch, not yet ready to sleep, even if he should. His body and mind seem to clash between the concert energy thrumming under his skin and the exhaustion in his lungs. He rubs at the empty space on his ring finger as his mind drifts off into thoughts of his husband. What’s he up to this evening? Did he eat dinner? Is he talking to the cats? He pictures his bright smile, the one where his eyes turn into crescents. He’d probably chuckle at Yoongi for simply sitting here and it'd make him laugh too. Yoongi checks the time on his phone before hitting the call button. He pulls his knees in, leaning back into the couch, lower lip pulled between his teeth. His phone continues to dial … dial … you have reached … He lets out a breath, closing his eyes. He can’t expect Jimin to answer every time, not even Yoongi is that good about his phone. Maybe traveling is getting to him more than he realizes.
Knocking sounds at the door and Yoongi peaks an eye open. It’s almost melodic, definitely not the way his manager knocks. He taps his phone screen—no missed messages. He drags himself from the couch, his heartbeat kicking up just a bit. Last thing he needs right now is unwanted attention from strangers. His breath catches looking through the peephole. That can’t be right … Yoongi yanks the door open. “Jimin-ah?”
