Chapter Text
Yoongi is not dreaming.
He knows he’s asleep, has been asleep, because he can feel consciousness starting to pull at him. The tendrils of sleep hold on for a few moments, but his newfound awareness of closed eyes is enough to shake off the blank, lucid not-dream.
He doesn’t open his eyes, though. Not yet.
If he’s being brutally honest with himself, he’s afraid to. He doesn’t know what he’ll be waking up to, this time. He’s hyper-focusing on the darkness behind his eyelids so that he can’t feel his surroundings. He could be waking up on the street. He could be waking up in a hospital. He could be waking up dead. Worst of all, God forbid, he could be waking up in his own bed.
Yoongi steels himself and lets go all at once. He opens his eyes, squinting into bright light. The ceiling is speckled and white, two long fluorescent bulbs blinding him. A four-bladed fan turns lazily in the center. He breathes out, sighing in immeasurable relief. No stain from water damage.
He hears the blips of monitors behind him, in time with his adrenaline-rushed heart rate. He’s in the hospital after all.
He looks down at his legs. They’re raised, both in casts that run the entire length of the leg. He can’t feel them, but assumes that they would hurt like a bitch without painkillers. Except for that, he doesn’t see any other injuries.
Seokjin, though. Seokjin’s there. Yoongi smiles, eyes starting to water minutely.
Seokjin is sitting in a chair right next to his bed, one of his hands covering one of Yoongi’s. His face is pressing on the side of Yoongi’s mattress, turned away. He’s breathing fine. Sleeping fine.
“Seokjin,” Yoongi whispers. The elder stirs; Yoongi knows that Seokjin has always been a light sleeper.
“Seokjin,” he repeats, a little louder. Seokjin mumbles something, stills, and then looks up, totally awake.
There are dried tear tracks running down his face. His eyes are bleary, and his hair is fluffed up and sitting at random disheveled angles. The side of his face that he was sleeping on is flushed red.
“Y-yoongi?” he questions, eyes widening. Seokjin’s hand grips his harder.
“Nice to meet you,” Yoongi says, voice augmented by sleep. Seokjin’s face softens; a small smile crosses his face, eyes downturning slightly. He looks ready to cry, and Yoongi kind of wants to, too. He doesn’t know if it’s a happy or a sad or a mad feeling. He mostly just feels overwhelmed.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Seokjin’s voice sounds like warm honey, like music to Yoongi’s ears. He’s speechless: he doesn’t really know where to begin.
There is something about Seokjin that can’t be experience in a dream. He has an aura around him, and Yoongi finds himself in a laid-back sort of awe.
Seokjin is smiling. It’s not one of the full-faced grins that he puts on with his friends, and it’s not the same as one of the affectionate ones he has on around his family. It’s not the solicitous smile he gives to acquaintances he is worried for, and it’s not the placating smile he wears when he’s trying to downplay something.
It’s a lot of things all at once, and Yoongi doesn’t really have a name for it.
He’s smiling, and true to the nature of a smile, he’s happy. Yoongi can see it in the shine of his eyes, and he can feel it. Seokjin’s radiating happiness, even with the tinge of sadness that’s so small but prominent. It’s a wan smile; the kind he might wear after a long, yet rewarding day. The difference, though, between that smile and this one, is the fondness.
“I should go get the doctor,” Seokjin says, standing. Yoongi nods. He watches, unblinking, as Seokjin walks over to the door and leaves the room. He stares after him, even once he’s out of sight, and doesn’t really register anything until the doctor’s walking through the door with Seokjin trailing behind.
The doctor comes fully into the room, but Seokjin lingers in the doorway.
“You’re a very lucky man,” the doctor says, face blank. “As you’ve probably noticed, your legs took most of the hit. If you would have dove a few seconds later, a few inches lower, or if he--” the doctor gestures to Seokjin-- “were a little shorter or a little heavier, things would be going a lot worse for you right now.” Yoongi opts not to mention how he knew exactly when the best moment to dive would be.
“And you--” the doctor continues to Seokjin, “are much the same. It’s akin to a miracle that you survive unscathed.”
“Don’t I know it,” Seokjin smiles. “I’m lucky to have someone like him on my side.” The doctor nods, looking back to Yoongi.
“We can go over the details later,” the doctor says, “I’m sure you’re still tired.” Yoongi nods again.
The doctor leaves, the door softly clicking shut behind him, and Seokjin steps further into the room.
Seokjin sits down heavily in the chair next to Yoongi’s bed. “You had me so worried, you know,” he says. All at once, Yoongi thinks he looks far beyond exhausted.
“I was worried about you, too. I saw--”
Seokjin cuts him off. “It in a dream. Right?”
“Yeah. I’m just… so glad that I got to you in time.”
Seokjin doesn’t respond right away. “Thank you. For this, and for everything, I mean.”
“What’s ‘everything?’”
“The good dreams all these years. When I had bad days, I at least knew that when I went to sleep I’d see something I liked.” Seokjin smiles, and Yoongi returns the look. Yoongi stretches out his hand again, intending for Seokjin to take it. Seokjin reaches forward, but all of a sudden the door bursts open.
“Yoongi-hyung!” Taehyung shouts. He runs in, closely followed by Jimin, Jungkook, and Namjoon. Their eyes all look red, and Jimin looks like he might burst into tears again at any moment. Namjoon smiles when he and Yoongi meet eyes.
Jungkook beelines to Seokjin, throwing his arms around his shoulders and mashing his face against his neck. Seokjin pats his back soothingly.
“Well, you sure have been busy, hyung,” Namjoon says. “I leave you alone for one day…”
“That’s one way to put it,” Yoongi deadpans. He fixes his eyes on Jimin. Jimin’s bottom lip starts to tremble. “I’m perfectly alright, kid. No need to cry about it.”
“I knew something was wrong when you left the studio, I just, I just--” Jimin stops talking abruptly. He rounds on Yoongi, hugging him carefully. Yoongi doesn’t really know how to respond, awkwardly returning the gesture.
Jimin squeezes him a little tighter before letting go and standing back up.
“Wait, you came in today? I thought you’d be out the whole day.” Namjoon is blushing lightly, and Yoongi immediately becomes suspicious.
“And I thought you’d be in the whole day. The kids said you disappeared on them, and I saw as much myself when I went in.”
“I just took a day off.” Yoongi gives him a look .
“You don’t take days off for no reason. Who or what is it?” Namjoon’s eyes widen.
He stammers. “No one! I mean, nothing--Let’s just focus on you right now, hyung.” He laughs nervously. “So, what are the odds that your dream partner happens to know Jungkook?” Namjoon’s met with tense silence.
A few seconds later, Jungkook unattaches from Seokjin and stands up straight.
Disregarding Namjoon’s question, Jungkook bows. “Thank you, hyung,” He says, and if the room weren’t so silent, Yoongi probably wouldn’t have heard him. This is one of the only times when Yoongi has seen Jungkook completely somber, despite the more joking tone that Namjoon, Yoongi, and Taehyung have taken on. There have been serious times, but Jungkook usually retained a little bit of childishness even during those.
Yoongi swallows. Jungkook serious is kind of unnerving, so Yoongi decides to try to divert the attention. “How do you know Seokjin, anyway?”
Jungkook straightens up and glances down at Seokjin, sharing a look with the elder. Something unidentifiable to Yoongi passes through Seokjin’s eyes, and he starts talking.
“We grew up next-door neighbors,” Seokjin says. “His older brother and my older brother were friends, which is how it started. And even though I’m older, he has always been pretty protective.” Yoongi can easily tell that that is not the full story. He’s generally not one to pry, though, and the current times are trying enough.
Before Yoongi can reply, the door bursts open.
It’s Hoseok. Yoongi has no idea how he got up here or why he’s here, actually.
“Seokjinnie, is everything okay?” he says. His eyes shift from Seokjin to Yoongi on the bed, and his face falls.
“You’re that guy that came in earlier! Min Yoongi! Oh, my God, did you save hyung?” Hoseok looks on in wonder. Apparently, Hoseok and Seokjin were closer than Yoongi had previously thought.
“That’s one way to put it,” Yoongi says. Hoseok nods excitedly, his eyes sweeping over the room. His mouth drops open.
“B-BTS…” he says, jaw practically on the floor. Taehyung grins, and Jimin and Jungkook blush.
“You a fan?” Taehyung asks. Hoseok looks like he’s about to cry from excitement.
“You have no idea,” Seokjin murmurs, but Hoseok’s attention has already shifted elsewhere.
“You…” he trails off. You were the one who tried to pick up noona!” Namjoon’s entire face turns red, from the tips of his ears to the apples of his cheeks and all the way down his neck. “I can’t believe you’re here,” Hoseok gasps between fits of giggles. “Small world, isn’t it?”
“What are you talking about, Hobi?” Seokjin asks, and Yoongi almost feels bad for Namjoon.
Almost.
“The look on--the look on Hyoyeon’s face!” Seokjin’s eyes widen, and he adds to Hoseok’s laughter.
Yoongi stares at Namjoon, using what the boys had once dubbed as his “explanation, now ” face. Namjoon’s averts his gaze, eyes turning to the window. If it were possible, Yoongi thinks that he would’ve turned into a tomato by now. “...I’ll fill you in later.”
Hoseok and Seokjin don’t bring it up again, and the conversation falls back into place naturally. Yoongi will definitely be asking about it later.
“We have to get back to the studio, hyung,” Taehyung says, half an hour later. Hoseok’s already left, having to go back to the cafe himself. “We would stay, but the comeback is still on. Since you’re not, like, dying or anything, we have to go back to work.”
“Good to know you care so much about my well-being,” Yoongi goads. Taehyung rolls his eyes, leaving the room with Jimin in tow.
“See you, hyung,” Jimin says, smiling, “Get well soon, okay?”
Jungkook follows, sparing the room one final glance. He nods, a gesture laced with thanks and finality, at Yoongi, smiles at Seokjin, and leaves.
“I’ll see you two around,” Namjoon says. “For now, though, I’ll leave you alone. I can tell where I’m not wanted.”
Seokjin moves to protest, but Namjoon stops him before he can say anything. “I know, I know. I have to get back to work, anyway.” He stands and walks to the door. “Talk to you later, hyung. Seokjin-ssi.” He goes out into the hallway, but sticks his head back through the doorframe. “And Seokjin-ssi--hang onto Yoongi for me, okay? I know he doesn’t seem like much, but… you won’t regret it.”
“I’m planning on it,” Seokjin says, smiling. Namjoon grins back and finally leaves for real.
Yoongi sits with Seokjin in silence for a few minutes. Yoongi’s content to stay in the other’s presence, even while not saying or doing much of anything. He gets the same feeling around Namjoon, occasionally, on late nights when there’s nothing really to talk about.
Yoongi doesn’t realize how tired he still is until he lets loose what is perhaps the biggest yawn in the world.
Seokjin laughs softly. “Do you want to go back to sleep?” He checks his phone. “It’s only about four, but I can see you being tired. It’s been an exciting day.”
“You’re telling me,” Yoongi says. “Will you stay with me? While I’m asleep?”
“If you want me too. I’m pretty tired myself. I hear near-death experiences tend to cause tiredness.”
Yoongi doesn’t remember saying anything else after that, but to be fair, he’d been drifting in and out of sleep for awhile.
between one rough dream and another, I seemed,
still awake, to be stranded on a stony path,
and there the familiar enigma presented itself
in the shape of a little trembling lamb.
It was lying like a pearl in the trough between
one Welsh slab and another, and it was crying.
Yoongi wakes up with a drawn-out yawn.
After a second, the events of the day before start to flood in. He doesn’t want to open his eyes, dreading the sunlight that would most likely stream through the hospital room’s long window.
The longer he lays in bed, though, the more his stomach turns.
Because the bed he’s in is really comfortable. More comfortable than any hospital bed has any right to be.
Almost comfortable enough to be the mattress that his body had shaped almost every night for the past four years.
He opens his eyes.
His face is wet. Yoongi doesn’t know whether he’s crying or if more water is seeping through his ceiling.