Gritting his teeth wasn’t enough. Yoongi was sure that he would break a tooth or two if he kept on doing this by all the tension building up. And although he didn’t want to risk that, he had to do it in order to keep his mouth shut as well as keeping the tears from running down his face. Without thinking about it Yoongi hollowed his cheeks and bit onto the flesh harshly to draw some pain. There was no way he’d be the weak one in front of Jimin. Not again.
He didn’t even need to mention what had pissed him off about the previous statement and yet Jimin knew it. He didn’t forget. But what did he intend to do by saying that? Making Yoongi angry? That definitely worked. Hurting him? Even if it was hard to admit, even that worked. Making fun of him? Well… obviously. But the man wouldn’t give in that easily. He wouldn’t show. But then again Yoongi wondered what he had hoped to gain. Maybe Jimin would have groaned that Yoongi should sleep in the bed if he insisted – a few years ago that would have been pretty likely to happen but now it was all in vain.
The next time Yoongi gulped he had the taste of blood on his tongue. Apparently not even the pain was able to hold back all those thoughts gathering in his mind. With a silent sigh the man rubbed his eyes and took a few deep breathes to relax. No longer should he think about what has been what could be or what will never happen. He should concentrate on what was really happening. And that was Jimin lying in his bed and doubtlessly trying to fall asleep. With the clear intention of not caring what Yoongi will do. Well this game could be played by two.
Without a word leaving his lips he walked over to his wardrobe and tossed the jacket in. Honestly he didn’t care about the noise he made because it didn’t matter if he disturbed Jimin or not. After all he could leave if it was too loud to sleep. Seconds after his shirt followed – this time more quietly – and he took another shirt out to put it on. His clothes were drained in sweat and dirt after carrying Jimin all the way to his apartment and Yoongi surely wouldn’t sleep in it. Normally he would have offered the latter some fresh clothes but from the way he acted it didn’t seem to bother Jimin. And neither did Yoongi. Apparently a bit louder than needed Yoongi closed the door and walked back to the window, not even glancing towards his bed for a second. With a growl forming in the back of his throat he sat onto the floor right in front of the window, pulled his legs close to his body and rested his head on his arms.
He wanted to get some rest badly but at the same time he was afraid to fall asleep. If he would fall asleep he would dream. And if he would dream he would remember things he didn’t want to remember right now. And with that he would put Jimin’s behavior aside as being the brat Yoongi knew he was. And this surely wasn’t what was going to happen. Yoongi wouldn’t get over the fact that he was the one being mistreated. Not as long as he was awake. But in his dreams there was nobody being mistreated. They were just friends…
No matter how much he tried to fight back sleep got the upper hand pretty fast and caught the man in memories he wished never existed.
There was a thud, & cloth fell upon the wooden floor of the wardrobe. Then there was a click & the door closed. He closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to cocoon him in dreams of a time long forgotten while the silence around him told him goodnight.
But the sounds of his own thoughts drowned them out.
Sixty thousand questions, a million stars moving in space and pinned on the ink-black sky. All these years of ignoring him, of avoiding him just so that they weren’t in the same place, he failed to realize they were under the same sky, the same sun, the same set of stars, & the very same moon that watched him & didn't care why he cried, crumbled & grieved.
& grieve for what? The loss of a father? The loss of a family? The loss of a friend?
Jimin did not know sacrifice.
He pushed the thought away as he squeezed his eyes shut & try to get some sleep, but they kept bothering him; kept keeping him up.
They clawed at the back of his throat, scratching, raking his vocal chords as they fought to escape the confines of his inner self & into the air around him. Then why did you bring me here? Why didn’t you kill me when you could? Why did you keep me alive?
But he fought them back, & swallowed them to where they should be, but that didn’t stop them from asking.
Why was he here? Why wasn’t he dead yet? What in the world did he do to deserve this much from a person who was supposed to hate him?
Questions, questions. Questions that might never be answered. Questions that hung in the air around him; that were unsaid & silenced as they squeezed themselves in the crevices of his brain. They filled up his mind, up until they coagulated by his ankles up until they puddled by his feet as they formed a sea around him. Drowning, drowning — drowning him in curiosity as he begged to be saved from torment of not knowing why.
Was he so blinded by his hatred that he could simply hate a man who provided him something even his comrades couldn’t?
Because he’s one of them. They hate you, & you should hate him too.
But was that as reasonable as he thought it was?
He was wrong, wrong, wrong ——
They were clouding his head and his thoughts, Jimin couldn’t even hear his proper thoughts while his mind was at war.
He bit back a frustrated groan and reached up his forehead massage the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t think straight, not with everything and everyone screaming that his actions did not signify.
That was when sleep finally seized him; snatched him from a world he hated & hated him back, cocooned him in a dream-spun silk & protected them with lies of his what-if's & what could have been's.
& so the same sky, same stars, same sun & moon moved in space above them. Time passed, people died, & new lips breathed air. & he felt better as if the wound was never there. He could stand up without a problem, without struggling or his head throbbing & screaming with a singing pain. He was fine.
Jimin warmed up to him, but he hadn't forgiven him; not fully...not yet.
He stood up, his head no longer wrapped in bandages & his feet on the floor like he never struggled to do that in the first place. "Yoongi, let's go! I'm late for work! Late for days!" & he said it like he never hated him, like he never condemned him, & spat at him.
Then he looked at the window, the same window that he looked through to look at the same blue sky, same stars, same sun, & same moon that beckoned him to step out & smell the air like he never touched morning dew on blades of grass.
