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Yoongi has never seen someone in love, he’s never been in love. It terrifies him to his very core, it’s something that he never wants to experience. He doesn’t understand how someone now can put themselves through such turmoil and pain. The idea of letting yourself die for someone is so twisted and rotten. He doesn’t understand how it could happen, he’s so afraid that he wakes up dreaming his lungs have been filled with flowers, slowly blooming until there’s no room for air, until his chest tickles and his eyes water. He dreams that he feels tendrils of roots and vines slowly creeping up his neck, latching onto his lips. He doesn’t want to fall in love.
The band members don’t know this. No one knows about this because why would they? Why would he tell them about a deep rooted fear that he knows will never come true in all his life. There’s no need to. He opens his eyes, trying to focus on the ceiling as he slowly starts counting to himself, trying to stop his mind from wandering too much. It’s not every night that he feels like this, he doesn’t really understand his own feelings.
His mother had always taught him that love was something beautiful, something to be treasured and nurtured. Yet, the fear of that love being unrequited, the consequences in this world are so heavy. He can’t help it that it weighs so heavily on him, it’s terrifying in every way possible. He wants to believe in his mother’s words, follow them to the very core and find someone. He wants to be loved, to feel someone’s hands card through his hair and soft lips against his own. He wants to stay up until three in the morning talking about nothing with someone. He’s too afraid though - he’ll always be afraid.
He doesn’t know what to do as he just lays there, moving into the foetal position. He can hear the other members talking through the walls, he’s too afraid to join them. He doesn’t really interact with them away from the cameras and fans, he feels like he’s suffocating whenever he’s with people. It’s almost as if there’s an anchor pressing down on his chest because whenever he performs, whenever he leaves their dorms this very fear follows him, as if it’s his own personal monster. In many ways, it is but if he’s careful he’ll never fall in love.
He’ll never have to see the petals fall from his mouth onto the floor, tinged with blood. He doesn’t need that, nor does he want that.
He wants to fall in love, but he doesn’t want to face the possibility of death.
He can feel his body shaking and his eyes watering as he remembers home. He remembers how in love his mother and father had been, how close they’d been as a family in Daegu. He remembers all of it, the sparkle in her eye whenever she smiled towards him and his father, The way her smiles had been so lively, it was almost like it was out of a child’s storybook.
He thinks back to the past now, all the times he’d been on stage and looked out into the crowd to see them there. He remembers how it felt to have his heart drop, even if he knew they wouldn’t be there to see him.
He remembers how it had felt to see them there, in the crowd. He doesn’t recall the name of the feeling, just the pure gratitude, happiness. There had been more in that very moment, more than he could ever explain in simple words. In that moment, he remembers feeling alone, alone and afraid as he got down on his knees in front of all his fans. His parents looking on, he felt weak but then, then something truly magical happened. Jimin had bowed down to his height, rubbing his hand on his back. He’d whispered kind words, smiling as he spoke of how proud his parents must be for him to get this far. It had been such a warm and welcome comfort to just have them there, to have someone being nice and caring and he can’t believe it.
He doesn’t want to think about the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest as he thinks of those memories. He doesn’t want to be reminded about the significance of Jimin’s actions then, the way his heart had fluttered.
He doesn’t know the time anymore, all he knows is that it’s late. It’s late and he can still see the light peeking out from the crack of the door into his dorm, Jin’s probably out talking too. Usually he locks himself up in his genius lab, no one ever distracts him there.
It’s safe - he’s safe.
He doesn’t expect to hear someone knock on the door, he just rolls over, cuddling into his comforter. He lets out a tired groan as a welcome, but instead of going over to their own bed he feels the end of his own sink.
“Hyung…”
He feels his blood turn cold. It’s supposed to be Jin, not Jimin. He doesn’t reply, hoping that Jimin just lets him sleep. He’s afraid, he’s so afraid that he feels like he’s suffocating. The heaviness of his duvet almost too much on top of his body as he tries to calm down.
“Y-Yeah Jiminnie?”
He wants to be alone, with his thoughts. He wants to go to sleep, he doesn’t want to be with Jimin. It’s too much, he knows that if he spends too much with someone his feelings could mutate, changing slowly into something uncontrollable. He doesn’t want that, he doesn’t need that.
“Were you crying?”
Yoongi stiffens and his throat becomes dry, he doesn’t say anything in reply and notices that the lights have gone off from outside the bedroom. The door’s been closed behind Jimin too, which he didn’t realise. He wonders if this had been planned by his bandmates, it would make sense. Jimin sighs, and Yoongi can’t help but move to sit up, his tears having dried. It’s only his throat that’s sore from sobbing, his eyes are used to the dark and he can just make out the frame of Jimin’s body.
“Nah, I’m okay Jimin, don’t worry about me yeah?”
Jimin isn’t stupid, he knows that there’s something that Yoongi isn’t telling them all. He can tell because every since they were all trainees, he’s constantly attempted to ignore them. He doesn’t really recall the last time he’d seen Yoongi smile and it breaks his heart. He knows how beautiful Yoongi’s smile is. it shows his gums, his eyes crinkle, his cheeks get a little bit puffier. It lightens the atmosphere, showing when Yoongi is truly happy but that’s something rare.
He knows he’d heard something, he doesn’t know if it had been Yoongi crying. He’s certain that there’s something though, there has to be. He knows that Yoongi keeps his distance, he respects that yet he doesn’t know why. The others had tried to get him to just leave it alone, and understand but it hurts his heart to see his friend go through this.
Yoongi’s always been so kind and caring about them all, even if he tried to hide away. He’d always make sure the fridges were stocked, as well as make sure they had money saved away in a rainy day fund. He’d work until ridiculous hours in the morning just to make sure that the songs they put out were perfect, he’d spend extra time practicing in the dance rooms with Hoseok as well.
He could hear that Yoongi’s throat was slightly scratchy, his voice hoarse. He doesn’t say anything else though, just humming softly as he sits on the end of the bed. He decides to speak up then, leaning his head back against the wall of the room.
“You don’t mind that I’m here, right Yoongi?”
He makes sure to speak softly, aware of how Yoongi feels around other people. He doesn’t know why but he knows that even being with one person at a time can be too much for him. Jimin understands that, he’s kind towards Yoongi, he doesn’t act overly energised and instead just waits for him to reply.
“I-I don’t mind Jimin, I don’t mind at all…”
Yoongi’s voice trails off, Jimin can tell there’s something else on the tip of his tongue. There’s something he wants to say, Jimin can feel it. An unfinished sentence, he waits for Yoongi to finish speaking because maybe he’ll get a final answer. Though there’s nothing that fills the silence. He can’t help but feel disheartened.
He can see the outline of Yoongi’s body curled in on itself, he sighs. Jin had allowed him to share the room with Yoongi, and had graciously offered up his bed. He doesn’t move, just watching as Yoongi becomes more and more restless, his shoulders shaking slightly. He feels his chest warm and he sighs before lying down, cuddling his body up against Yoongi’s.
“Jimin, what’re you doing?”
“You’re always alone, Yoongi…”
Yoongi stiffens at that, Jimin can feel the way the muscles in his fingers go slightly tighter as he puts his hands around his. The two of them don’t say anything else, Jimin’s body pressed up against Yoongi’s under the covers. He rests his head on his neck, burying himself in his hair and the smell of his shampoo.
When Jimin wakes up, there’s no one in bed with him. Yoongi’s side has since gone cold as he reaches out and he feels confusion take over. He thought that would Yoongi wanted was someone to just be there, to hold him and to treat lovingly and kindly. He’s so worried, yet whenever someone attempts to help Yoongi runs, even performing Jimin can just sense something off about him. He knows that he loves his music, his solo song had been so raw and overpowering that no one could really see otherwise, but other than that there’s been nothing.
As he thinks, he ends up curling back into a ball, letting his mind wander. He can hear the shower running from somewhere, as well as laughter from outside. He creeps out of bed, his feet soft against the floorboards as he makes his way through the dorm.
Yoongi’s afraid, that’s what Jimin knows. He’s afraid of something, and that’s what his anxiety comes from. The rawest actions he’s seen from Yoongi were those at the epilogue tour, when he’d gotten down on his knees to bow to his parents. There had been no apprehension in them, just pure appraisal for his parents. He doesn’t interact with people, yet he seems to be at his best when he’s around them. Jimin knows he respects Namjoon more than anyone in the group, constantly spending time with him in their studios creating new beats or songs. He knows that Yoongi would do anything to protect Jungkook and Taehyung, he would run to the ends of earth and back for them if it meant he got to keep them safe and out of harm’s way. Hoseok is almost like his partner in crime, they tell each other nearly everything and are always seen talking about something. Jin keeps him in line, he makes sure Yoongi remembers to eat and sleep and never oversteps his boundaries, Yoongi is endeared by him and cares for him because they all share the same mutual respect as they’ve become a family.
He still pushes himself away, fearful of something that none of them could ever know. He wants to find out - to help because he wants to see Yoongi’s smile everyday. It’s something he needs because he can feel negative energy radiating from him each day. The TV’s playing the news in the background, he can overhear the words of the reporter. Paramedics had found yet another person dead due to their flowers. It’s cruel that such a disease exists in their world.
Hanahaki is enchanting in all its ways, yet so damning for it’s victim.
Yoongi feels it. He can feel it blossoming, he doesn’t know what to do. There’s something tickling his lungs, his chest is warm. He doesn’t know what to do, he wants it to go away. He doesn’t want this, it’s too much for him. He doesn’t even know if he could call it love, but Jimin, Jimin is everything to him and that’s terrifying. Out of everyone, it was always Jimin he had to keep the most distance from. His kind soul matched with delicate skin and soft laugh creating a deadly combination. He doesn’t know what to do, panic slowly setting in as he looks at himself in the mirror.
His hair’s still wet against his head, there’s still rivulets of water on his collarbones. He doesn’t bother to towel them off before he makes his way back through to his room. He doesn’t want to be seen by the others, too dazed to interact with anyone right now. He needs to figure out how to stop this, how to stop this feeling from manifesting into something uncontrollable. He gets to his room, throwing his towel onto the floor before rifling through his drawers to find a pair of underwear and sweatpants. He tries not to think about Jimin, tries not to think about how soft his fingers were and how easy it was to just calm down in that very moment.
The thoughts don’t stop and he can’t filter them out, he doesn’t realise he’d fallen onto his knees until he feels his lungs heaving. He can feel something coming up his throat. He realises that it had only taken one action to ruin him, one action to strip everything away. There are tears in his eyes as he continually coughs, his hands covering his mouth until finally something falls into his hands. A flower petal, just one however and not a full flower. It’s a soft pink, with blood tinging the corner of it. That scares him, terrifies him even and he reaches for his phone with shaking fingers. He takes a picture of it, opening the web browser and choosing the browse by image function. He puts the photo of the petal, his heart almost coming to a stop in his chest. His mother had always taught him that flowers have a specific meaning, though it’s not the meaning that throws him off when he reads the first result that comes up. He feels tears well up in his eyes and his heart starts to beat a little too fast.
His biggest fear is real, it’s real and there’s nothing he can do to take it back. He doesn’t understand, he’d been so careful. He hadn’t meant to fall in love, how could someone fall in love that fast. He brings his knees into his chest, his phone screen still open next to him. He holds the petal between his fingers, fiddling with it. It’s something beautiful in itself he thinks, it’s fitting for Jimin. He feels his emotions slowly come over him again, the name on his tongue. He wants to cry out but he can’t not when he’s like this.
“It was only one night, one fucking night and you went and fell for someone, you fucking idiot.”
He repeats those words over and over, waiting for someone to come in. Needing someone to come in, but he’s left alone, the words he’d read flashing in his mind over and over as if a broken record.
NERIUM OLEANDER - This flower is highly toxic, ingestion can cause nausea, vomiting, cardiac arrhythmias, hypotension (low blood pressure) and death
He doesn’t leave his room for the whole day. His body already fatigued even if he’s only coughed up lone petals. He doesn’t know what to do, his mind is scrambled and his stomach is just slightly sore. His head feels like it’s swimming, his lungs heavy as he starts to cough again. He doesn’t know the time but there’s a small ring of lone petals surrounding him, almost as if a circle of protection. He sees his phone lighting up with varying messages, it’s now turned one in the afternoon and he can’t believe it’s been less than a few hours.
He tries to stand but his legs feel like jelly, he gathers the petals into a pile. They’re harmless when you touch them, which makes him smile. It’s similar to love he thinks, this wasn’t supposed to be love. He always thought it was an infatuation with Jimin, but he crossed that line. He crossed it last night when he let him into his space. He remembers how nice it had felt to feel Jimin’s fingers against his own, how calming his presence had been even if they didn’t talk. He made the constant fear in his life dissipate into nearly nothing. He feels himself start to cough again, the petals in his hands falling to the floor as he starts to wheeze. His lungs getting nowhere near enough air, he can feel something around them, tightening them. He feels something sting against his throat and he realises in horror that he’s already moved further along the line, he feels bile burn the back of his throat and he runs to the bathroom, his hand covering his mouth. He throws his head into the sink, the flower coming out of his mouth before anything else. The soft pink of the petals mocking him, he doesn’t even get a moment to catch his breath before his stomach convulses. His body heaving as he vomits up bile from his stomach.
He starts to wake up earlier than everyone else in the mornings, his stomach contorting in pain and his body covered in a cold sweat. He doesn’t go to practice anymore, bedridden and coughing up flowers. He tries his hardest to hide it but it’s been around a week and he can barely walk. They’re preparing for their tour yet he can barely even talk, the air coming into his lungs becoming less and less. He needs to use his glasses more too, though they barely help with the blurred vision.
He wonders if the others can hear him as he runs through the dorms each morning. It’s nothing out of the ordinary though, they could think he’s getting back into bed for all he knows. He leans back against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall, his nausea almost too much to handle. He can barely see two meters in front of him, his head hurts and he can hear his heart beating as he feels his throat burning again. He weakly gets onto his knees, his thighs shaking as he throws up into the toilet bowl. His eyes screwed shut, it burns his tongue and the inside of his mouth. It doesn’t take long until it’s over, when he opens his eyes he realises that there’s blood mixed in with it all now. He scrambles onto his feet, nearly falling onto his face before he moves to look in the mirror.
What he sees looks like something out of a horror movie, his cheeks are sunken and the bags are under his eyes are a dark brown. His eyes seem empty almost, and his lips are chapped and dry, the skin on them flaking. There’s blood on the right corner of them and he reaches his hand up to wipe it off. It glistens on his fingers, the crimson shining in the artificial light.
He doesn’t have as much thought anymore, he just misses the touch of Jimin’s hands on his. How warm his body had been against his own, it had been one night but that night had been one of the nicest moments in his life. Jimin had been so kind to him, but why doesn’t he care anymore? Why does he only talk to Jin now instead of him, he feels his heart ache and he lets out a weak sob. The vines around his lungs tightening as he lets out small cries, just wanting someone to notice that he’s hurting - that he’s dying.
He’s dying.
He can barely walk back to his bed, his legs are shaking and he needs to lean on the wall. He doesn’t have any other choice, he’d rather go back to sleep than feel the pain. The pain of being unloved, feel the toxin slowly move throughout his body. He can’t escape it though, no matter what. He dreams about Jimin, dreams about running his hands through his bubblegum pink hair and soft lips. He dreams of making him laugh and going out on dates to the cheapest places they can think of. He curls into bed, only to notice someone come into his dorm.
“Hey Yoongi…”
He feels his heart stop, his throat go dry and his tears completely renew. He’d recognise that voice anywhere.
“Hey Jimin, what can I do for you?”
A silence falls between the two of them, and he doesn’t want to turn around because he feels fear grip him all over again.
“I just wanted to see if you were feeling better, since mine and Hoseok’s room is right next to the bathroom I can hear you at night, well I think it’s you, there isn’t really anyone else who would be up at three in the morning…”
Yoongi’s heart melts. Jimin cares about him, he does care and he doesn’t know what to do because how does he manage that? How did he manage to know the most gorgeous person alive?
“I’m okay Jiminnie, I’m fine, I promise.”
He knows Jimin wouldn’t believe him if he could see, but he doesn’t want to tell him. It’s something he knows that Jimin doesn’t feel back towards so he keeps quiet. But Jimin doesn’t leave him, he stays. He starts singing, softly, quietly, lulling Yoongi into a dreamless sleep.
He doesn’t know what’s happening. He wakes up unable to breathe, coughing and wheezing. His body jerking and fingers shaking, he can’t breathe. The vines around his lungs latching onto the base of his throat, he can feel them. He tries to be quiet. His hand covers his mouth as he coughs, trying to stop this from happening. He can’t breathe at all, he can only cough. He can feel tears welling in his eyes.
He wants Jimin. He needs Jimin.
He can hear someone talking, his vision too blurry to make out who it is. He hears something about an ambulance and all he can do is shake his head weakly. He doesn’t need an ambulance, he doesn’t want one. He tries to scream as the vines tighten once again, digging into the soft tissue of his windpipe. He can feel vomit at the base of his throat and his head hurts. The lights turn on and it’s too bright, he reaches forward when he makes out the soft pink of Jimin’s hair. He notices how Jimin leans down next to him, his voice soft against his ears as he whispers sweet nothings as Yoongi drifts in and out of consciousness.
Jimin had woken up at three in the morning when he’d heard screaming coming from Jin and Yoongi’s room. He’s never ran so fast in his life, when he got there he saw Yoongi. Poor Yoongi curled into the foetal position, his clothes stuck to his skin. There had been blood and vomit all over his pillows, flower petals littered around him. There had been a fully grown flower in his hand. He’s sitting in the ambulance now, holding onto Yoongi’s shaking hand.
He isn’t conscious, he has an IV in his arm. He’s still coughing, petals and blood falling from his mouth as the paramedic tries to keep him alive. He watches, praying for the first time in his life that Yoongi comes home.
He needs Yoongi to come home.
They all wait in the ER, Jungkook and Taehyung trying to distract themselves with games on their phone, while Namjoon and Jin attempt to get more information from the nurses.
He swears he hears the beeping of Yoongi’s heart monitor through the door as it’s open. The dam bursts when he watches the doctors run into Yoongi’s room, he screams and sobs.
Yoongi’s name the only thing falling from his lips as he’s embraced by his fellow band members.
Yoongi died that night, at 4:30am due to ingested poison. Jimin now knows what he had been afraid of all those years.
Love, Yoongi had been afraid of love.