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Awareness creeps into Yoongi’s mind with splatters of navy and heavy drops of teal. The taste of sea foam and hint of black pepper rouse him from slumber, light filtering in from drawn curtains spiral in amber, and dance across closed eyelids. Soft snoring and silent footsteps are heard, and Yoongi takes time to accustom to his awakening.
It takes him approximately 10 seconds, to decide, it’s going to be blue and green today. A day wrapped in a royal blue ribbon with the taste of raw coffee beans. A day with the absence of smiles, yet avid of soul crushing unhappiness; to Yoongi, neutral is blue, and that’s how its always been ever since he tasted a sour apple for breakfast, and his happy jasmine yellow day had melted into the darkening blue of a late midnight sky.
Without much thought, he turns over gently, snuggling deeper into the grey bed sheets, cotton threads softened over the years, and opens his eyes to his usual world. He could make out the blanket ball of Seokjin sleeping softly across the room, and the silent footsteps outside the door could only be those of Jimin, the dancer having the lightest and most graceful footsteps in the house.
Yoongi takes a deep breath as he reaches out of his cocoon, fingers fumbling as he grasps his cold phone from the side table, and lights the too bright screen, eyes crinkling and frown deepening as he glances at the time. 6:04am; much too early he thinks, and soon, he lets the deep green spiralling patterns of Jimin’s footsteps lull him back to sleep.
***
It was known to all the members, that Yoongi saw and tasted colours. They knew that to Yoongi, everyday was its own rainbow, and each song written by him was composed as a different assortment of colours and tastes. His struggles emanated a hollow ice blue, with knots of taupe clawing through with his struggles. The video to his music video, Agust D, was blue for a reason, a very private reason he had only allowed himself, and six other brothers know of. Yoongi had only attempted once, to try to tell his parents about the oscillations of colour that reverbed against the harshness of his voice, mood and taste. To him, perception of sounds, colours, and tastes all linked as one, and he had been unaware until a late night spent reading the news had enlightened him, and from then on, he had realised that his canvas was painted with so much more than he had realised.
His mother, whom he had shared everything with, had smiled and laughed while Yoongi’s voice shook with the courage he built up over past weeks, as he softly spoke to her in tangents of mauve and bursts of cherry red. He tried to explain how beautiful his mothers voice and name was, glowing amber, tangles of stardust, and the taste of sweet chamomile and honeysuckle. Yet his mother had dusted off the topic, a glance thrown to her nervous son, and dismissal of the topic soon followed. She had thought nothing of her son’s perception of the world, and had decided that normalcy was all that was needed. No need for any difference, and in their household, everyone would see the same.
To say Yoongi had been crushed was an understatement. The women he unconditionally loved and who was supposed to understand him, had so quickly pushed away his attempt of courage and fake filled bravery. Yoongi had realised, at the tender age of 17, that telling people about his weird ability, was simply not worth the time, effort, or thought. He was strange, different, not normal, and not normal was not a good thing.
***
It had taken Yoongi approximately 4 years, to even think about telling his fellow members of his senses, and even then, it was unintentional. A late night spent watching movies after a particularly tiresome day of dance practise had loosened his tongue with lethargy, as he grumbled in a low voice to the dark, TV lit room, about how grey the scene was, despite it being a snapshot of two lowers singing in a bright summer park.
His drained brothers had taken little notice to his quiet voice, but more occasions soon followed.
“Breakfasts’ ready!” Seokjin shouted into the living room.
“Hyung, Kookie won’t get up”
“Tell him I made pancakes Hoseok”
“Kay Hyung!”
“NAMJOON! So God help me if you break another plate!”
“Hyung, Jimin says he’s on a diet!”
“Why is it so damn lime green? I hate lime green”, growled Yoongi, stumbling towards the coffee machine while rubbing a hand across his hair, in an effort to smooth the unruly mess that had become of his brittle, dyed hair.
Seokjin momentarily stopped flipping pancakes into the plates to look at Yoongi. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he looked around to find the lime green source of discontent his fellow member was frowning about. Yoongi continued on his mission for coffee, tiredness had been his biggest enemy regarding his words, and he took no notice of his small tongue slip.
“Hyung! I brought Jungkook” smiled Hoseok, pushing the maknae in by his shoulders, the sleepy boy rubbing his eyes and lightening up at the sight of his favourite breakfast food.
“Good job Hobi, now settle down! Its going to get cold, you too Yoongi” smiled Seokjin, they had a schedule later on at a radio show, and he was going to take this opportunity to make sure they had a well deserved breakfast together.
“Jin hyung! I brought Jimin!” Shouted Taehyung, as he carried Jimin into the kitchen across his shoulder like a fireman.
“Tae! Let me go!”
“Just resign yourself to your fate Chim”
“Curse you Kim Taehyung!”
The two boys continued bickering as they sat down at the table, voices quietening upon the feast the saw.
“KIM NAMJOON! YOU CAN COME NOW” yelled Seokjin, as he took a seat at the head of the table, and gave a quick glance to Yoongi who appeared to be engrossed in his yellow mug of coffee.
“Yoongi, I was looking around but I couldn’t find any limes or lime green things, what were you talking about?” questioned the eldest, while reaching for a carton of juice.
Yoongi felt the colour drain from his face immediately, and stared down at his lap, mind racing, heart thumping, and ears roaring. The world suddenly plunged into dark grey, brown rust; cracks of sickly yellow, and the taste of hatred coated his teeth.
“Yoongi?”
Said member slowly looked up, and was met the six confused sets of eyes. All on him, questioning, curious, expectant.
Yoongi felt like he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t believe his slip, and his traitorous mind fled to dark places of rejection and disgust.
Lime green. That godforsaken colour was one he despised, and right now he could feel it bursting into silent supernovas across his vision.
“Hyung, are you okay?” Namjoon.
“Yoongi?” Seokjin.
“Hyung?” Hoseok.
“I-I, gottago” whispered Yoongi, standing up abruptly, knocking over his chair with carelessness, and he felt his feet against the cold wooden floor as he rushed out of the kitchen.
Bedroom
Keys,
Coat,
Headphones,
Out.
Red
Outside.
White.
Quicker,
Orange.
The outside breeze slapped his face, colour blinding, air suffocating, and freedom.
Freedom.
Deep breathes, headphones, ears, and music.
And all of a sudden, blooms of soft magenta and pale sky blue flowered across his eyes, chasing the lime and taupe away, and sweet honeysuckle coated his tongue with calm, composure and escape.
To Yoongi, rap music, was soft, pastel, arms open, voices spitting lines understanding. And a sense of understanding was all he wanted and craved. It had been a while since he had felt as if he was drowning in his own ocean of sensations, and soft steps through the snow-laden floor were helping to calm his racing heart.
Rejection from his mother still ached in his bones. He didn’t know if he could take it again from his second family, and he really didn’t want to find out.
So Yoongi continued to trudge through the snowy morning, ignoring the grumble of his stomach, hand curling around the rhythmic vibrations of his phone, members calling, texting, questioning.
And he continued to do what he thought he did best. Escape, run. Hide.
Footsteps solid, and body swaying to the burgundy beat of his music.
***
To say the members were confused was an understatement. Clueless, and shocked were the expressions on their faces.
“Seokjin hyung, what was that?” said Namjoon, his expression focused, looking to see for an answer, a clue.
“I…I have no idea Joon.”
“Yoongi hyung seemed so upset,” whispered Taehyung.
“It was like he was in his own world for a second” nodded Jimin.
“Let’s give him some space, you know how Yoongi is” added Hoseok, knowing how to deal with his hyung who needed and demanded space above everything.
“That’s a good idea Hobi, I’ll try speaking to him when he gets back” replied Seokjin, chopsticks still mid air, as silence enveloped the quiet kitchen again.
‘Lime green’ thought Jungkook, mindlessly taking a sip of water, as he too, glanced around the room to find the colour, but his eyes saw nothing.
***
Yoongi was a master of masking what he felt and saw. He had been doing it for so long, it was second nature to him. But that slight mistake had him rethinking his selection of masks yet again.
He felt alone. So alone, his own canvas splattered with colour, but no one to show. Every time he spoke to the members, heard their voices, he felt a smile tugging at his lips from affection, he wanted to tell them how goddamn beautiful it sounded.
But always quick to bite his tongue, he held back.
The radio show had gone without any problem. He ignored and blocked out the mishap of the morning, and acted as if all was normal. And no one had seemed to mind, at least to himself.
They had returned home with hushed voices, small jokes in the van, and were lounging in the living room, another movie playing, and an assortment of various take out containers on the low table.
Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung were busy laughing quietly at something on their phones, the morning memories quickly forgotten under reassurance that their hyungs would fix it all.
Namjoon was stealing glances at Seokjin, who in turn looked at Hoseok, the unspoken question of how to address Yoongi on their minds.
Yoongi however, was in the bathroom. Hot shower spray pelting down his back, easing the tension out, as he hummed the indigo song the birds had sang on his walk in the snowy morning.
Yoongi was internally, a mess. If only he hadn’t had reacted so strongly this morning, he could’ve played off his reaction. He was stuck, mind racing around to come up with an answer for his behaviour, for himself, and for the others.
As he pulled on a dark grey hoodie and darker sweats, he quietly made his way to the living room, shaking his wet hair, and took a look at the others, who seemed to not notice him. Trembling steps and bated breathes as he sat down on the floor in the corner, reaching for a small carton of noodles and chopsticks, holding his movements steady, as he prayed he could escape the inevitable interrogation that was looming over.
“Yoongi ah, are you okay? Said Seokjin, his deep voice rolling in a mahogany ocean tide, Yoongi felt his shoulders slowly relax at the feeling; he took a few moments to relish in it, and was slow to reply.
“Yeah. Listen, hyung. About this morning”, Yoongi looked up carefully, and was unsurprised to see all eyes on him, waiting for him to finish. “I was just tired, I think I was seeing colours or something”, he bit the inside of his cheek as the lie rolled off the tip of his tongue, hoping that it would suffice.
“Then, I just remembered I had to do something at the studio, I forgot to tell you. Sorry.” Yoongi finished quickly; internally shouting at himself as webs of pale yellow lies twisted across his heart. It was obvious, they knew he was lying, the knew but-
“As long as you are okay Yoongi, that’s all we want” Seokjin replied, eyes wide, compassion and empathy, rich canary and bright vermillion drenching the room with thick syrup drops.
And that was all Yoongi needed; the nods, reassurance of his words met by six faces, was all he ever needed.
***
It had been Yoongi who had suggested their music video for War of Hormone is filmed in blacks, whites and greys, with explosions of red in their clothing.
Yoongi had wanted to debut differently to what he had become, and singing about girls and hormones, was nothing but boring newspaper grey to him. When the production team had actually liked and decided to use his idea, he had been speechless, and decided to remain that way, after all, silent rebellion was his style and way of retaliation.
To say it had been a hit was a huge understatement. The team have loved it. Fans, managers, members, and Yoongi took no credit. Instead using various excuses of artistic semblance being the reason for his idea.
In fact, Yoongi had woken up to another grey day, feeling mellow and quiet, the voices of his members occasionally erupting in neon, the taste of cardamom and clementine’s soft against his tongue. It’s calming, he thinks, and smiles into his sleeve.
“Hyung, Namjoon hyung won’t let us play!” Whined Taehyung, arms waving at the TV where the boys were busy in a Mario kart tournament.
“That’s because you already lost Tae”
“You cheated!”
“Did not!”
“Did too!”
“HyungWATCHOU-“
A loud citrus bang was heard, and Namjoon’s character promptly flew off course, flying through various trees, and what Yoongi could only think to be walking fish.
“And the destruction continues” smiled Hoseok, shaking his head
“Hey, that wasn’t even my fault! Cried Namjoon.
“Sure hyung, sure” laughed Jimin.
“Hyung my go!” Jungkook shouted, snatching the controller, grinning as he clambered over next to Yoongi, body warm against his smaller shoulder.
“Yoongi hyung! Why so quiet?”
“Ah, nothing Kook. Just tired”
“You okay though?” wide eyes looked with worry, the elders expression melting at the concern, splatters of vermillion dripping into emerald, drops splashing into empty and cold palms.
Yoongi decided to be the clever, sophisticated hyung he proved to be by replying with a grunt, and further burying himself into his too-large hoodie, eyes crinkling at the warmth, lavender and violets blooming fruitfully over his tongue. The youngest feeling worry leaving him as he smiled at his cute hyung. If Yoongi said he was fine, then he would trust him.
After all, if Yoongi was fine, then all was fine.
***
Until one day, everything was not fine.
Sometimes, everything and anything was just too much. Today was one of those days, and Yoongi couldn’t control the tides of sound, taste and colour that tried to steal him under their crashing waves.
The sound of mahogany footsteps, heavy against the ground swirled in with the bright crimson petals of the music as they danced to the choreography of Fire for the hundredth time. The heavy blue breaths and smell of yellow-grey sweat broke the quivering, weakened dam, and the all of a sudden, Yoongi couldn’t see, breath, or hear.
Knees hit the floor with an unforgiving smack, hands coming up to his hair, tugging in mercy, for everything to just stop. Heart thumping and eyes watering as the oscillations of colour and taste grew stronger, every wave thrumming stronger against his ribs, lungs and heart aching for everything to just shut up.
He felt a pair of warm hands cover his own, gently pulling away at his hair, and rubbing thumbs at the junction of his thumb and first finger. Broken, sobbed words of ‘please, make it stop, too much’ escaped his lips and he felt rather than heard, the booming vibrations of the music come to a halt, another set of arms moving him to sit down, taking the pressure against his mauve and violet aching knees away.
Soft words of sweet nothings and empty reassurances chased the multitude of marbled colours away, blowing a baby pink and daffodil yellow breeze into his mind. Honey and jasmine in his throat, as he felt his lungs loosen and eyes wet.
“Hyung, are you okay?” The soft words that cast blossoms of sunset skies across his eyelids were of Jimin’s, and Yoongi felt calmness and control slowly returning into the twisting lines of his palms.
“Ji-Jimin” a soft shuddering breath, “I’m okay. Holy shit. I’m okay,” gasped Yoongi, voice stuttering with hiccups.
“Hyung, what was that?” Taehyung spoke, voice quivering at the sight of his stoic and strong hyung being reduced to a tearful pile on the floor. Roots of emerald knotted into Yoongi’s senses, and drops of lemon yellow bled fear into his bones.
“No-nothing, Tae, noth-”
“Bullshit. Hyung, cut the crap,” Namjoon suddenly interjected, crouching down with the others who had sat down, forming a semi circle around Yoongi
“Yoongi ah, we know something is up, we’ve tried to let you have space, but you can’t nearly pass out and expect us to leave you alone without an answer,” Seokjin spoke softly, hands never stopping their ministrations on the youngers, eyes bearing into Yoongi’s tearful ones. Yoongi felt lemon yellow fade into a calm blue sky, pillars supporting him as he fought against his doubtful mind.
“Jin hyung is right Yoongi hyung, we’re worried about you” Hoseok added, rubbing his hands together in anxiousness. Sunflower yellow, tangles of magenta, and Yoongi could feel himself relaxing into the colours that had overwhelmed him so much earlier in the day brushing deft and calm strokes into his being.
“Hyung, you know we love you, right?” a soft spray of indigo stars bloomed, and Yoongi let his eyes flutter up to Jungkook; he felt his breath hitch, as all he saw was absolute love and understanding, not only from the youngest, but from all of his brothers. He felt his heart explode at the affection. No judging, no readiness to push away at any topic, but instead, a rainbow painted across his body, all cascading and marbling into a beautiful, breath-taking melody, dropping thickly across his vision, and Yoongi could probably say he was half frog to his members and be met with nothing but acceptance.
With a deep violet breath, Yoongi sat up straighter, pulling his hands away from Seokjin’s, to wipe at his eyes. With the taste of citrus and cinnamon on his tongue, he looked up and spoke with a steady, albeit hiccupping voice.
“I haven’t been honest with you all. I have this thing… it means, sometimes I can sort of taste noises, and see sounds, and I guess today… it was all too much and I couldn’t see or breath and I’m so sorry, so sorry I didn’t tell you” Yoongi ended quickly, voice catching on the last few words, whispering apology after apology as he wiped his eyes again thoroughly.
“See sounds? Woah, really?” Taehyung
“So like, taste the rainbow literally?” Jungkook
“Yoongi ah, why didn’t you say anything before?” Seokjin.
Yoongi fiddled with his hands, a sandy pause and sea foam haze second later he found hidden courage in the depths of his mind to reply, to disclose one of his most privately kept pieces to these boys he loved with his entire being.
“I…I was scared. It’s not normal, I’m not normal, didn’t want to be different” he mumbled in the same shade; ocean foam dancing between his teeth.
“Oh hyung, you really think we would have treated you differently because of this?” Jimin sighed, his eyes twinkling with stars and sorrow.
“Hyung, you know we love you and everything that comes with you, despite how strange you think it is” Hoseok smiled.
Yoongi felt flecks of stormy grey being chased away by sunshine, and he let out another shaky breath, shoulders relaxing as tension seeped navy away from him.
“You’re right, I’m stupid, and I’m sorry”
“Now, give us a second to pack up, because you’ve got a lot of explaining to do!” Jungkook and Taehyung laughed together, standing up to grab their bags and leave the studio.
“I guess I do” Yoongi smiled softly, leaning back to stand on shaky legs.
And as the group of boys walked and laughed through the midnight starlit roads that twisted to their dorms, Yoongi felt silver and white supernovas explode into his irises, throwing petals of each vibrant colour of the rainbow into the night sky, colours anchoring him, and brothers showing him love that he had not known existed.
In the cold, winter night, even their misty breaths held clouds of individual rainbows and wonder, and the pleasant, warm taste of well ground coffee and clementine’s dusted Yoongi’s words, as he spoke in short, thoughtful sentences, of how beautiful each members voice and name was.
And Yoongi felt happiness, his mind in love with tides of colour, sounds and tastes, only present and living within the synapses of his boundless dreams and thoughts; only for him to see, and only for him to share.
-End.