Chapter Text
“Yoongi, come on” Yoongi hears Namjoon’s voice above him, as if through a haze, and then there’s a soft jab at his hip bone through his thick comforter. “This is ridiculous, get up.”
Yoongi vaguely remembers waking to an extremely cold room (it crossed his mind that Namjoon must have cranked the ac, which Yoongi hates him to do), feeling an extreme sense of existential dread, seeing the crack of invitingly warm sunshine on his welcomingly soft carpet, rolling off of his bed, still firmly wrapped in thick blankets, and half crawling/ half scooting over to curl up in the spot, and eventually falling back asleep.
Yoongi feels another hit, this time in his stomach. He opens one eye to glare at Namjoon. He didn’t deserve two.
“What do you want?” Yoongi asks before pulling his blanket over his head and facing the opposite direction.
“You’ve been locked up in here for three days, and I get that you're bereaved, but this isn’t healthy,” He hears Namjoon shuffle over and open the blinds, filling Yoongi with even more warmth. “You're going to have to come out and talk about her eventually, you know,” Namjoon’s voice is soft, and Yoongi hears his sigh from across the room.
“This isn’t about my grandma, I’m just tired, leave me alone,” Yoongi grumbles.
“It was just last week,” Namjoon says. “I don’t blame you for being sad, I would be too, if my mom passed.”
“Listen,” Yoongi snaps. He sits up so the blanket falls to his lap. “We’re all going to die,” his voice is low, tired, and borderline angry. “You’re going to die, I’m going to die, Seok Seok is going to die, Seokjin is going to die, the cute boy that works at the coffee shop down the street is going to die, your parents, a dog probably just died while I was talking, that’s just the way.” Yoongi pauses to look out the window, wincing at the light. “I’m devastated. I’m not scared that you think I’m weak. I’m just… tired. I don’t know why, but it’s gonna go away. Just let me rest while it does.” He sounds defeated by the end, and Namjoon is looking at him, sadness in his eyes.
“We’re just worried,” Namjoon’s whispering.
“I know, kid,” Yoongi looks to Namjoon.
“Hoseok and I were thinking about taking you out to get your mind off of it.” Yoongi looks at him pleadingly. He doesn’t have to say anything. Namjoon nods. “If you want to rest, that’s fine.”
“Thank you,” Yoongi glances at the door where Hoseok is now standing. He throws something that Yoongi catches. It’s a sweatshirt, the one he steals from Hoseok all the time because of how soft it is. Yoongi stares down at it, then looks back to Hobi. He tosses something else. Yoongi finds his hands clutched around a water bottle.
“Go back to bed,” Hoseok says quietly, a sad smile playing at his lips. A sort of love for his two roommates fills his chest. It’s overwhelming and he wills away the tears that sting his eyes.
“Thank you,” he says again, this time quieter.
He’ll be better soon enough, he thinks. He’ll be fine.
-
Yoongi wasn’t actually asleep. He just didn’t especially want anyone to talk to him. That’s why when he heard his door open, and Namjoon’s quiet voice fill the room in some sort of heated argument with, Yoongi recognized as, Seokjin, he snapped his eyes shut.
“It’s been a whole week, Namjoon,” Seokjin was saying.
“Yes, and he told us to let him rest, I’m just doing what he asked. Also, you don’t know him like I do, you’ve only just met him.” Namjoon’s voice was threatening to rise. “You’re practically a stranger, he’s not even going to like that you’ve glanced in the general direction of his room, let alone barge into it while he’s trying to rest.”
“Well, he’s gotta eat sometime,” that’s about when the smell of home cooked food wafted into Yoongi’s room, making his mouth water. “And I’m not going to sit around while I know that he’s sitting in here starving himself to death, whether I’ve known him for one month, or a hundred. That’s just wrong.” Seokjin’s whispers sound more like yelling.
“We feed him fine, Hoseok brings him food at least once a day,” Namjoon protests. Seokjin rolls his eyes.
“That’s not enough, he’s a human, not a fucking dog.” Yoongi finally opens his eyes to glare at them. His whole body screamed in protest. Bad idea. Seokjin was now staring pointedly at him, Namjoon looking on, helpless as ever.
“I tried to stop him,” Namjoon sounded frantic. Yoongi felt his eyes droop, and be blinked slowly. He still had Hoseok’s sweatshirt wrapped around him, the boy himself clutching at his torso. The younger had walked in some hours ago. He didn’t say anything, but walked over and curled next to Yoongi, Hoseok falling asleep not long after.
“Yoongi, come eat,” Seokjin pleaded. Yoongi looked between the two, mumbled something about not being hungry, before turning his body to face Hoseok, and huddle with him for warmth.
“See, now let’s go,” Namjoon reached to grab Seokjin’s arm, but he pulled away.
“Yoongi, you have to eat, I will drag you out of that bed myself.” Seokjin was persistent, but not more so than Yoongi was disinterested in getting up. He made a noncommittal noise. “Fine, then,” Seokjin smiled sweetly. Yoongi felt a tight grip on his arm, and he tried to pull back, to no avail.
“Seokjin, what on earth are you doing?” Namjoon was practically yelling, and Yoongi wanted him to be quiet. Seokjin tugged on him until he was off of the bed, effectively dumping him ass-first into the ground. He heard a shuffling behind him, and then a confused noise from Hoseok.
“What’s going on?” Hoseok’s eyes widened at the scene. “Seokjin what the hell?”
“He has to eat,” Seokjin explained.
“If he wants to rest, let him,” Hoseok and Namjoon spoke at the same time. Yoongi felt hot tears rise in his eyes, and before he could stop them, he let out a sob, burying his face in his knees, wrapping the arm that Seokjin didn’t have a hold of over his head. He felt helpless and weak, but once the first tear fell, they wouldn’t stop, even through the heated conversation going on above him.
“God, look what you did,” Namjoon ripped a shocked Seokjin’s hand away from Yoongi. Hoseok flung himself off the bed and completely encased Yoongi in his arms, but Yoongi shoved him away.
“I was just trying to help him,” Seokjin said quietly.
“He needs time,” Namjoon said softly. Yoongi was completely wrapped around himself, Hoseok next to him, looking like a kicked puppy, while Seokjin was led out of the room by a protective Namjoon. “Just let him get used to breathing again.”
Once the door was shut behind the pair, Yoongi sprawled out on the floor, completely overheated, ditching the sweatshirt, along with his tee underneath it (the same ones he’s been in all week), leaving him only in his boxers. He let out sob after fat sob to the ceiling, and an onlooking Hoseok. His arms were out to his side, legs straightened in an attempt to cool himself off. He wasn’t even sure why he was crying anymore, but he felt everything that had been bottled up spilling over in the form of tears and a heaving, rattling chest.
“God, are you okay?” Hoseok stared on with wide, scared eyes.
Yoongi looked to him, and the total despair in his eyes said it all, but he still tried to choke out a “I don’t know” through all of the body movement, and it didn’t sound right, but Hoseok got the idea.
“Wanna scream into a pillow?” Hoseok lowered his eyes. Yoongi nodded, not trusting his voice. Hoseok stood, got the thickest one that decorated Yoongi’s bed, ignoring how much it smelled like Yoongi himself, and the twisting in his gut in favor of getting it the hell out of his hands. He tossed it so it landed next to Yoongi, who sat up, knees bent, head firmly in the pillow, still trying to stop the sobs. Hoseok sat with his back to Yoongi and felt himself tense up at the first scream. It was muffled, but still very much audible. Another came after, and another. It went on for what felt like hours, and it very well may have been, and Hoseok only relaxed once he felt Yoongi’s breathing even out, his back leaning into Hoseok’s own, head falling back to rest on the younger’s shoulder. Yoongi tossed the pillow blindly. It didn’t go too far, and Hoseok saw that it was soaked.
“I’m cold now,” Yoongi’s voice was extremely raw, and Hoseok had to will away another stray of tears. Instead, he chuckled lightly. He stood, much to Yoongi’s dismay, who fell with his back to the floor, yet again. Hoseok picked up his sweatshirt that Yoongi had discarded, and after smelling how disgusting it was, decided against telling Yoongi to put it back on. He did keep it in his hands, though, so he could wash it.
“Want me to run you a warm bubble bath?” Yoongi looked him over. He trusted Hoseok more than anyone on the planet, so he shrugged. His face was hot, yet goosebumps traveled up and down his spine. He was absolutely exhausted, and maybe a little feverish.
“I guess.” And then. “I don’t know if I can walk.” Hoseok smiled down at him.
“I’ll be right back.” The younger walked into the living room. Namjoon was on the couch, head in hands, staring at his feet as if they held the answers to the universe. Maybe they did. Who knows. He finally let his facade drop, body drooping against the archway leading into their living room.
“I heard the yelling,” Namjoon said sadly. Hoseok nodded, though Namjoon couldn’t see. Or maybe he could. Who knows. “Is he okay?” Namjoon looked up to search Hoseok’s face.
“Better.” Hoseok said. “He’s getting there. I’m going to run him a bath, maybe get some kind of food ready? Probably don’t crowd him. Stay a little ways away, just in case.”
“I’m glad he has you,” Namjoon’s eyes soften. Something happens in Hoseok’s chest, but he ignores it.
“We’ve never not known each other,” Hoseok explains. “I can’t remember him ever not having me.” Namjoon nodded, exhaustion visible in his motion. “Try and get some sleep, I’ll wake you if I need you.” Namjoon nodded again, but stayed where he was.
Sighing, Hoseok quickly started up a load of laundry, before running to the bathroom to start Yoongi’s bath. Once it was a good depth, he turned of the steaming faucet, grabbing a couple of towels, a washcloth, and some soap and shampoo from their respective cabinets.
When Hoseok reentered Yoongi’s room, the older was still exactly where he had been. Hobi approached Yoongi and hooked the latter’s legs over his own arm, resting his other around his torso, lifting to carry him bridal style. Yoongi’s arms immediately found Hoseok’s neck, his head the younger’s chest.
As Hoseok crossed the hall, he got a peek of Namjoon asleep on the couch, relief filling his bones. He wonders when he turned into the mother of the house, trying frantically to keep them all afloat, while the thunderstorm peaked it’s ugly head, rocking their boat to the bottom of the ocean. Hoseok didn’t think himself strong enough to hold steady against the current, and crushing pressure, but he tried every second, despite himself, choosing a soft smile over suffocating tears.
He deposited Yoongi on one of the many towels thrown across the bathroom floor.
“If you need anything, I’ll be right outside,” Hoseok softened at the small nod. “I’m going to get you some clothes, but some stuff is still drying, so it’ll be about ten minutes, and I’ll be back in after that,” Yoongi nods again. With that, Hoseok turns.
“Thank you,” Hoseok hears, and it makes him stop. He looks over his shoulder, Yoongi is standing now, staring after him. “Like really, I know I’m hard to be around right now, but you’re still here, and I really appreciate it.”
“Don’t thank me.” Hoseok’s tone is final, his eyes drooping a little from exhaustion. “You’ll always have me. You always have. You always will.” Hoseok turns back to the door, hand reaching for the knob. “It’s just the way.”
“I love you,” Yoongi sounded so sincere, and so sad, that it made Hoseok’s heart clench in his chest.
“I love you too.” Then he was in the hallway, the steamy bathroom suddenly too small.
So, he waits for some laundry to dry, picks out a sweatshirt and some shorts, some boxers, and heads back to exactly where he doesn’t want to be. His plan, initially, was to wait outside for a few minutes, work himself up to entering, but thought maybe he should barge right in when he felt that something was extremely wrong, and thought he heard a strange gurgling, choking, maybe.
Once the door was open, Hoseok wished it was closed again. Before him, there looked to be a mostly unconscious Yoongi, facedown in the tub, still full of water, as if he had tried to drown himself. Hoseok realizes that he did, in fact, try to drown himself, and is still in the process.
Hoseok dropped the clothes in his hand, pulling Yoongi from the filled tub, flipping him so he was on his back. He channeled his freshman year health class, hoping cpr would come back to him. He went through the steps in his mind, putting them to use.
Eventually, Yoongi sputtered, water spurting from his mouth in a harsh coughing fit. His eyes fluttered open, and Hoseok realized how upset he was, bringing his hand to slap Yoongi across the face.
“What the fuck?” Hoseok screeched. “God, how selfish can you be?” He picked himself off the floor, a harsh sob wracking through him. He couldn’t seem to hold himself back anymore. All of the weight of the past week finally catching up to him, turning him to nothing more than a pile of mangled bones. “I cannot believe you,” Hoseok yelled. He looked over, helpless when Namjoon appeared in the doorway. Yoongi was laying naked, wet on the bathroom floor, Hoseok was clutching the sink for support with one hand, and his heart with the other, looking about to throw up. “I’m going to Tae’s.” Hoseok choked out, pushing past Namjoon.
“Hoseok, wait,” Namjoon started to leave, but before he turned all the way, he looked back to Yoongi, who had his elbow propped, looking up at the younger. “I’ll deal with you when I get back.”
Hoesok was already out the door, it itself already had been slammed by the time Namjoon caught up. “Hoseok.”
“What, Namjoon?” When the brunette turned, there were tears running down his face, shoulders were shaking violently. Namjoon was going to protest, until he saw how worn the other looked.
“Drive safe,” he spoke softly. “Text me when you get there.” A look of gratitude passed over Hoseok’s face before he nodded, got in his car, and drove away.
Namjoon turned back to the house, entering hesitantly.
-
New Voicemail Message: 8:37pm
Listen, Yoongi’s voice was raspy. I’m sorry. I know you need some time, but this shit is weighing down on me. It was a stupid thing to do, but it was a spur of the moment kind of thing. Namjoon took me to the hospital, and I’m here overnight just in case. There’s guards outside the door and I know they can hear everything I’m saying. Just wanted you to know that I’m safe and in stable condition. And if you don’t go back home for me… Yoongi took a moment to pause, and Hoseok had to hold his breath to keep from crying. Do it for Namjoon. He needs you there, I know I’m stupid and I upset you both but just- He stopped again, frustration audible in his voice. Stick together, and don’t let what I do come between you guys. He told me I made you cry. You know I always hated doing that. You shouldn’t cry over me. I’m sorry for everything. You probably deleted this without listening to it. But if you’re still listening, sorry again. I love you. Please stay healthy.
--
Hoseok let up his facade of strongness to face the storm once again. He picked himself up off of Taehyung’s bed after listening to the message at least five times more. When he walked past the younger in the living room, he nodded.
“I’m going home.” Taehyung hummed in response.
“Drive safe.”
He did.
And, when he got there, he pulled out his phone and dialed the number he'd had memorized since he was eleven, while still parked in the driveway.
"Hey, idiot," Hoseok sounded just as tired as he was.
"Hoseok," Yoongi sighed. "Thank god."