Work Text:
YOUR BONES ARE BREAKING AND THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT.
yoongi smooths the front of his shirt with flat hands, terrified to press too hard.
YOUR BONES ARE DETERIORATING AND THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT.
he pulls at the fabric, wanting it off, wanting to see, wanting to see what's happening to his ribcage.
YOUR BONES ARE FALLING APART. NOTHING HOLDS THEM TOGETHER.
he thinks about the plastic skeleton in his high school biology classroom. thinks about the strings tied around the joints. thinks about the strings fraying.
YOUR BONES ARE BRITTLE. WHAT DID YOU DO TO MAKE THEM SO BRITTLE.
he hums loud and shakes his head, locks his fingers together. it’s a little better but not enough.
DON’T THEY HURT? CAN’T YOU FEEL YOUR BONES BREAKING?
yoongi makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat and jimin looks over, eyes tired and colors waning. yoongi coughs, keeps coughing and pretends that’s what he meant to do with his throat all along. this is so much worse; he can feel his ribs hitting his lungs and they’re coming apart, and what can he do? jimin smooths a hand down his back and yoongi wonders if he can feel vertebrae separating under his fingertips.
he ends up standing and getting water from the kitchen, acting out the whole scene.
./
the studio is much cooler, nicer, and neater.
he sheds his clothes and checks, checks, checks. presses on his pelvic bones and touch his elbows to his knees, and very very very carefully feels his ribs, feels where they’re connected to his sternum, and it’s ok, they’re not coming loose, it’s ok, they’re not brittle, it’s ok for now.
BUT YOU CAN’T REALLY BE SURE, CAN YOU?
yoongi pulls his clothes on again, not thinking about how his knees ache a little when he stands up. patellas are meant to feel like that.
exhausted, he stares at his screensaver, a picture that jungkook took in sweden. ducks in a pond. birds have hollow bones.
./
it’s not so bad, a lot of the time.
some of the time it’s all he can think about.
find the percentage of yoongi’s time that he spends thinking about bones.
./
jungkook cracks his knuckles.
it’s not that yoongi minds—it’s more of just, a vague horror that revs quietly in his head.
the leather upholstery rubs the backs of his knees.
HOW DO TENDONS HOLD BONES TOGETHER. THEY COULD BREAK AT ANY TIME.
he blinks and jungkook cracks his knuckles, pressing each one into his palm until it gives and the joint is pushed outward and then snaps back, the sound dulled by the traffic outside the car.
HE’S PULLING HIS BONES APART ON PURPOSE.
yoongi sighs and dips his head between his knees, feels eyes on him and sits up again.
“everything ok?” namjoon’s voice from the front seat, somehow sensing everything.
yoongi gives a plain rasp, summoned from uneven air passing his vocal cords.
no one says anything else, and then they’re home and he does not want to think about bones anymore. he wants to peel his flesh apart and take out his skeleton.
they’re ordering chicken for dinner. birds have hollow bones.
./
yoongi cannot sleep.
he thinks he’s maybe at seventy percent for today. fourteen or so hours spent thinking about bones.
yoongi opens naver on his phone and positions his thumbs over the shift and ㅂ keys. something has to help. even if it’s worse maybe his head will explode and he’ll never think again, which at this point sounds rather peaceful.
without hesitating any longer he types bones into the search bar and is met with images of skeletons and articles about arthritis.
EARLY ONSET ARTHRITIS. RHEUMATOID ARTHRITIS.
he taps on an image and studies the labeled pieces, as he has too many times before.
somehow, somehow he ends up on a page about keeping bones healthy, and it recommends calcium pills.
he grinds his teeth. calcium… calcium for bones.
CALCIUM DEPOSITS SIT RIGHT BENEATH THE SKIN.
calcium.
he gets out of bed in darkness and heads right for the kitchen, opening cabinets and drawers until he finds the vitamins. almost frantically, he scans the labels: vitamin A, vitamin C, fiber, iron, B12.
sleeping pills, cough syrup, and a single pack of instant oatmeal sit at the very back of the cupboard. yoongi grinds his teeth and almost laughs.
not just oatmeal, oatmeal buried behind things that jungkook would never look for. he says vitamins smell really bad and taste even worse.
yoongi sighs and runs a hand through his hair, unsure and shaky. snatching a napkin from the counter, he tears off all the corners deliberately. it puts him in neutral for a moment, and the relief is welcome.
./
yoongi feels almost-crazy.
like if he had one more thing wrong with him namjoon might have him committed.
./
hoseok is insistent about stretching. yoongi usually avoids it, trying to touch his toes and pulling at his elbows before giving up and going right into practice.
hoseok catches him up today, insisting insisting. yoongi ends up on the rug in the living room, watching hoseok roll his ankles.
HOSEOK BROKE HIS ANKLE WHEN HE WAS TWELVE.
“stretching is important, because it’s the same as applying heat when you’re injured. it relaxes the muscles, moves the blood around, doesn’t let the joints stay stiff.” yoongi listens and watches, and somehow this isn’t bothering him as much. “you know, tendons are like elastic! they’re pulled pretty tight around bones and muscle, but they’re meant to stretch. you wouldn’t be able to move at all if they were all pulled taught, you know?” yoongi hums and frowns a little, thinking about this. “the point is, stretching’s good for you.”
hoseok reaches for his toes, fingers straining. yoongi tentatively begins following hoseok, putting his legs in front of him and leaning down, arms out.
his ribs feel fine against his thighs.
it’s a bit like a routine, hoseok’s stretches. pretzel legs and then arm pulling, neck rolling.
yoongi does it twice. it makes him feel looser in a good way—airy. breathable.
if hoseok’s bones don’t break, maybe yoongi’s won’t either.