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A LOT OF the time Yoongi still prefers to be alone than to be with someone else.
He finds himself drawn to corners, to the shadows, to standing on the side of the line-up as photographers take pictures and he's blinded by the flashes.
For the longest time, his only refuge was his studio. Sharing a room with others is fine, but not ideal for someone who feels suffocated in the presence of strangers. Who can barely breathe when he's in the supermarket, or in a busy store, or sitting in the audience at an award show or musical showcase.
He used to hate when the makeup brushes skated over his skin, painting over his imperfections and reminding him that he's inadequate—in some way—that his features need to be fixed. And the tight clothes, the jewellery, the constant pressure of a microphone or camera being in close proximity. Forcing him to filter out every little reaction, and every single, insignificant, comment he wants to make. Things that he used to do unconsciously, are now displayed for others, and he's changed so many of his habits just so he won't feel awkward or embarrassed about his thoughtless actions being shown to others.
Yoongi thought, naively, that being an idol meant that he'd only have to deal with people from stage. Under hot lights, sweating, rapping, dancing. Look out at unfamiliar faces and seeing their heads and hands sway in time with the rhythm. But the truth is that he has to deal with copious amounts of people every single day. People he doesn't know. People he doesn't like. People he would have never ever spoken to, met, or even acknowledged if his life hadn't worked out this way.
Over the years—with the groups' growing fame, playing at sold-out stadiums, seeing the lines of thousands standing outside, waiting to be let in—the number of strangers has increased. More interviews came along with that. More variety shows. More notes from their publicists on how to act, what to say, and when to do what.
Yoongi's gotten used to it. Which is weird in and of itself; he never thought he could. But here he is. Able to smile at the anonymous viewers, onlookers, and crowds. He's less scared to speak into the microphone, to look a little goofy on camera. Things are better overall.
Even so, he still needs time alone. Lots of it. And just because he's gotten comfortable on screen, doesn't mean he likes it.
He still has to stand in the bathroom for five minutes after every show and press conference to try and get his breathing back to normal. He still fidgets with his pants restlessly under the table. He still has to strain to school his face into something neutral and nonplussed every time he gets pissed or irritated at a question, assumption, or when he's been told before the interview that he can't say anything 'controversial'—even though the segment is meant to be personal and honest.
He had toed the line in that Billboard interview, after Namjoon had avoided making a statement in regards to the Same Love song. And even when he'd made his mixtape, and Bighit had promised they were going to be "hands-off," he'd had to bleep out that line in The Last, and change a lot of lines to get the OK on the final versions of many songs.
Because, in truth, he's not any better. He's just better pretending he is. And there's more for him to get caught up in, to think about; he has less time to contemplate and cry.
Still, Yoongi spends most his time in the studio if he can. As recently as this past year, Jeongguk has joined him there. Not all the time, and not from start to finish, but frequently enough that he's there with Yoongi more often than not.
Jeongguk had said, initially, that it's because he wanted to learn more about sound-mixing and producing so he could work on more songs in the future. And Yoongi had shrugged, mumbled a "Okay, come whenever, then," and Jeongguk had taken it as an unlimited pass to occupy the same space as Yoongi.
At first, Yoongi held back a groan everytime Jeongguk tentively knocked on his door, before letting himself in and collapsing in his usual spot. Yoongi couldn't drown out Jeongguk's breathing, his rustling, his tapping and other computer sounds no matter how loud he turned up his volume. It's not like Jeongguk had never visited before, but it became such a regular occurrence that the novelty wore off quickly and all Yoongi could focus on was the small annoyances that accompanied each visit.
One time, Jeongguk had brought sodas and ended up spilling his drink all over the carpet. Yoongi had bit his tongue, merely arching an irritated eyebrow at the maknae.
"Just clean it up, before it gets worse."
"Yeah, I'm sorry, Yoongi-hyung. I'll be more careful."
And Yoongi had hummed, planning to hold Jeongguk to that.
Later, Jeongguk had cleaned up the entire studio as if to apologise. But all Yoongi did was freak out. All his things! Hidden away! Anything scrubbed, sanitised, and well-lit made his brain hurt. He needed clutter to function. To get his creative juices flowing. Jeongguk realised his mistake when he saw Yoongi's less-than-thrilled expression, and his eyes had widened and mouth opened, an apology about to escape it.
Yoongi had taken a deep breath, gone up to him, and put a hand on Jeongguk's shoulder. He tapped his fingers there, considering his words before speaking.
"I would rather you spilled a dozen sodas over my head than for you to clean up my room ever again."
Jeongguk had nodded fearfully, and was about to speak again when Yoongi put a finger against the younger's lips and stopped him.
"It's fine. Let's just not do it again, okay?"
Maybe twice, in the past seven months, has Jeongguk and him actually spent an extended period of time discussing music; samples and synths and different fading techniques. Usually, Jeongguk sits on the huge beanbag in the corner with his laptop on chest and headphones in. And Yoongi is at his desk, clicking and listening away.
And they don't say a word to each other.
Today is no different.
Until it is.
"Hyung."
Yoongi pulls his headphones down, letting them hang around his neck. He spins his chair around to look at Jeongguk.
"What's up?"
"Um," Jeongguk's eyes flutter around the room, before he shuts his laptop and takes a deep breath. "I'm gonna be getting my own studio soon."
Yoongi doesn't know why the news hits him like a bullet to the chest.
"Where?" He asks, gaze dropping to the floor. He can feel Jeongguk staring at him.
"Just down the hall. Near Namjoon-hyung's."
"Good," Yoongi says. "You were starting to look like that beanbag."
"Umm..."
Yoongi glances up, "No. You can't take it with you. My ass has been deprived of comfort since you started coming in here. I fully intend to get it back."
Jeongguk laughs, but it almost sounds uneasy. "Okay."
"When are you getting the studio?"
"Um, I already have it set up. I'm just waiting for some equipment to be installed."
"Wait—" And Yoongi doesn't know why this makes his stomach drop. "You're already moving out? How long have you known?"
Jeongguk shrugs, not meeting the older's eyes. "A while."
Yoongi's chest burns. He tries to stamp it out.
"Oh. Congrats. Thanks for telling me," And he knows his voice is like ice. And he knows the exact expression Jeongguk probably makes when he abruptly turns back around in his seat and jams his headphones back over his ears. But he hasn't the fucking faintest as to why he so angry.
Yoongi turns his music up and scrolls through Twitter—which he never looks at—like his life depends on it. Trying to focus on anything, anything, but the hollowness in his chest that's creeping into his bones and sucking the air out of his lungs.
And he's freezing cold. His teeth threatening to start chattering. He knows this feeling. His anxiety is gripping him tight, taking over, and turning his body against itself. He needs to get up and get out of here, but he can't leave without walking past Jeongguk who will certainly see the panic on Yoongi's face and, frankly, Yoongi can't deal with that right now.
And then hands, big, warm, comforting, are rubbing circles into Yoongi's shoulders. Thumbs press into the knots of tension Yoongi's been storing up. Jeongguk is behind him, giving him a massage. Yoongi hadn't heard him get up.
The older's breathing starts to even out. The warmth returns to his body. And then he feels his headphones be pulled off of him.
The hands stop, and squeeze Yoongi's shoulders gently.
"I'm just gonna be down the hall, hyung. It's no big deal. It's got nothing to do with not wanting to be in here. Hell," Jeongguk says softly, "I'll probably still end up in here a lot. Just because I like that bean bag so much. And I guess 'cus I like you so much, too."
Yoongi doesn't know how to respond. But he knows he doesn't have to.
Jeongguk gives him a final pat, and then returns to the bean bag.
—
To say that it feels empty without Jeongguk would be a gross understatement. It's as if you cut open a watermelon only to find it missing it's signature red, fleshy, meat and just a few seeds rattling around on the inside. Yoongi doesn't know what to do.
He runs his fingers through his hair, grimacing at the greasy texture, and then goes to the bean bag to fluff it up. As soon as it's poofy again, he regrets it. It was almost comforting to have Jeongguk's impression there.
He starts rummaging through his stacks of CDs that are laid out on the floor, the CD player hooked up to a massive set of speakers and a bass booster. Sometimes, he and Jeongguk would sit on the floor for hours. Listening to dozens of different tracks, with the bass turned up so loud it caused the framed photos on the walls to rattle and the little tchotchkes collected on Yoongi's shelves to rattle. Yoongi would pick some 90s trap songs and try to rap along with them, and then Jeongguk would somehow find IU's Modern Times and play that, even though Yoongi swears the album's not his. He makes a stack of the ones he knows don't belong to him, so he can return them to the younger.
Yoongi crouches down and starts picking up the CDs, placing them carefully into one of three boxes. The CD player is put back on a shelf. He collects his gloves and scarves that have been collecting in a pile for the past month, becoming useless with the warming weather. He picks up a sweater, and smells it to test if it's clean or not.
He's not ready for the wave of Jeongguk that sweeps over him. Musky, sweaty, a dozen different kinds of cologne layered over one another. Either this hasn't been washed in months, or Jeongguk can't find a scent he likes. It also smells like campfire and grilled lamb. It smells like pizza and takeout and makeup and dust. And like the the backstage of the studio they filmed at a few weeks ago for Run—which had a distinct citrus tang in the air.
It smells like everything Jeongguk is and everything he's done. It smells like everything Yoongi's going to miss.
He folds it carefully, and is about to set it beside Jeongguk's CDs when he pauses. What if...he just keeps it? For no reason at all? Just, ya know, to see how long it takes for Jeongguk to miss it and coming looking for it. Just so Jeongguk will have a reason to come back in Yoongi's studio.
Just so Yoongi has a chance to try and convince him to stay.
So he puts the coat over the back of his chair and tries not think about it too much. But the more he cleans his space the more things of Jeongguk's he finds. There's entire drawers of Jeongguk's knickknacks. From pens, to pamphlets, to keychains. There's his anime figures on Yoongi's shelves, and even some of Jeongguk's camera equipment. There's a spare set of his headphones. A small pillow. A fan. A few pairs of earrings tucked away on a corner of Yoongi's desk. A comb. With each thing of Jeongguk's he finds, the more overwhelmed he becomes. The more the loneliness starts to gnaw at his stomach and claw at his chest.
He's never hated being alone more than he hates it right now.
It's such a foreign feeling. The room is too big. The air too quiet.
And that's when Yoongi realises he's cleaning because he knows Jeongguk likes cleanliness.
And Yoongi misses him.
He misses that Jeongguk would bring in coasters to put underneath Yoongi's cups. He misses that Jeongguk would carefully toe his shoes off when he came in, trying to make as little noise as possible so he wouldn't bother Yoongi. He misses spinning around in his seat to discover the maknae passed out with his mouth open, sometimes snoring. He misses being able to shut the lights nearly completely off, and watching over Jeongguk as he slept.
And he misses when Jeongguk would do the same for him.
Yoongi knows he's being dramatic. It's been less than twenty-four hours since Jeongguk told him he was getting his own studio, and Yoongi's already freaking the fuck out.
Why. Why, why, why, why, is he like this?
—
Much to his dismay, Yoongi finds out that it's not just in the studio he's come to rely on Jeongguk's presence. It's at home too. Their schedules used to be almost exactly aligned. They'd eat together. Go home at the same time, head to bed around the same hour and wake up within fifteen minutes of each other most mornings.
Yoongi keeps looking in the kitchen, expecting Jeongguk to be waiting there for him with freshly made coffee and a new album for them to listen to together, just to be disappointed when he's not there. He keeps waiting downstairs for Jeongguk to go to the studio with him in the morning, to have one of others tell him that Jeongguk is already there.
Even when Jeongguk is with him, when they're away from the studio, he doesn't say much to Yoongi. Which, it's dumb that Yoongi gets worked up about that, when their entire thing has always been that they don't need to talk to each other to communicate. To be happy. But now that Yoongi doesn't have the comforting presence of Jeongguk in the studio or at home, and they don't even have their small, hushed conversations in the car on the drive back home anymore, Yoongi is deprived.
Deprived of human contact. Deprived of Jeongguk.
His studio is kept clean now, an open box of the younger's things sits next to his desk. It's been three weeks, but he hasn't returned them. And Jeongguk hasn't come looking for them. He'd said he would still stop by, and you would think that since they're only a few metres down the hall from each other that would have happened by now, but Jeongguk hasn't come by once. And Yoongi is too stubborn to see Jeongguk's room himself.
Maybe it's because he's afraid he'll go in there and see that Jeongguk's made it his own, comfortable, creative space and he'll finally have to accept that Jeongguk's not coming back to Yoongi's studio. Maybe he's afraid that Jeongguk doesn't want him in there. Because why else would the maknae have wanted a studio in the first place? To be alone. To get away from Yoongi. Away from Yoongi and his mood swings and his loud music and messy room.
Yoongi shouldn't care so much, he knows that, but he feels like screaming in frustration every time he remembers that he's alone he's alone he's alone. He wishes he could go back to the him that was irritated by Jeongguk's every move and every breath instead of the current him that. Can't. Stop. Missing him.
It's like, not having Jeongguk as a nearly constant physical presence has made his brain feel the need to start projecting thoughts of him everywhere. In movies and songs and in his peripheral vision. Constantly whispering to him in the back of his mind.
And when Jeongguk is there, his brain goes completely hay-wire and shuts down. He can't speak anymore. But at least the hollowness inside him gets filled by bricks and mortar. Building up warmth and satisfaction. Every smile, every word that Jeongguk speaks, everything, sends a swarm of butterflies up and down, throughout Yoongi's entire body. Being with him, even just in the same general space. Three feet apart in the van, or right next to each other at the dinner table, is enough for him. He's never felt so goddamn needy in his entire fucking life but Yoongi can't seem to get a handle on it.
He keeps swinging his arm over Jeongguk's shoulders and putting his hand on the younger's neck. He keeps leaning in every time he speaks and keeps humouring him when Jeongguk gets into some ridiculous antics with Jimin and Taehyung. Yoongi keeps grinning at him with the dopiest fucking expression and he can't help it. He looks at Jeongguk when he raps and he outright stares at Jeongguk when the younger sings. He puts extra food on Jeongguk's plate when they all eat together and is the first to take the younger's side. Or to encourage him. Or to remind him of things he's been forgetting to do, like getting more than four hours of sleep.
And every time Yoongi does any of these things Jeongguk looks at him like a deer in headlights, with big, doey eyes and his mouth open just slightly. Like he can't believe Yoongi is paying so much attention to him. And frankly, Yoongi doesn't blame him.
He doesn't know what the fuck he's doing either.
—
It's verging on two months in separate studios when Yoongi finally breaks down.
It's nearly 4am, Yoongi's exhausted, a little delirious, and starving. He wants to go get food or go home but he legitimately doesn't know if he can make it anywhere on his own. So he stumbles down the hallway to Jeongguk's studio, sees the light peeking out underneath the door, and he gently knocks.
There's no reply, and he figures Jeongguk might be crashing, so he carefully twists the handle before easing the door open. He tilts his head to sneak a look inside, and his jaw nearly drops to the floor.
He's wide awake now.
And Jeongguk's studio is a fucking mess.
Like, chip bags and soda cans strewn across every surface, kind of mess. Coffee rings staining shelves and candy bar wrappers collections in corners, kind of mess. Sweaters and discarded socks lie around in dirty bundles, the wires of Jeongguk's computer and chargers are all twisted up like an octopus tripped over itself. And Jeongguk is passed out, head tilted back against his chair, feet propped up on his desk. Something he's chastised Yoongi about a thousand times.
Without thinking, Yoongi goes to him and snaps his fingers in Jeongguk's face, startling the younger awake. He jolts up, his head nearly colliding with Yoongi's but the older dodges him just in time.
"What the hell is this pig-sty of a room you're living in?" Yoongi demands to know.
"W—what? Yoongi-hyung?" Jeongguk rubs at his eyes and plants his feet down on the floor, yawning. "What are you doing in here?"
"I came to see if you wanted to head home with me and then I saw your room is a goddamn mess."
"So?" Jeongguk sighs tiredly.
"So?" Yoongi repeats, incredulous. "So, for all the times you were in my studio you never once went a day without folding something or organising the CDs or cleaning the stains off of my desk. You couldn't stand seeing a mess. And then you get your own private lair, and suddenly it's perfectly fine to make it look like satan's closet?"
Jeongguk blinks up at him in shock, and for the first time in a good long while Yoongi, isn't rendered speechless by his big, dark, beautiful eyes.
"You had no right to give me so much shit when you go and do the same exact thing."
"Hyung..."
"Don't, 'hyung,' me, bitch. I'm hungry and tired and I will fight you."
Jeongguk suddenly stands up, forcing Yoongi to step back as the younger towers over him.
"Then why is your studio suddenly spotless, huh? Why is your room suddenly clean and organised? Why do I smell cleaner in the hall and and see all your trash thrown out at the end of the day, huh? When you gave me all that shit about trying to keep your room clean? I thought you didn't like it like that, huh?"
Yoongi sputters. He doesn't have a reason. He doesn't have an excuse. He can't explain and logic his way out of this one without it being painfully obvious that he's lying.
Jeongguk glares at him, and Yoongi has never felt so small.
"And why'd you keep all my stuff in that box, huh? I was out of your hair for one day and you—you, you acted like you were upset I was leaving. But then you pack my stuff up like that? Like you want me to get the hell out?" Jeongguk shakes his head in disbelief, "If you wanted me gone so much you should have said something months ago."
"Jeong—" Yoongi starts, brow creasing.
"No, let me finish," Jeongguk steps around his chair, putting distance between himself and Yoongi and crossing his arms. "Because then you don't ever come down to deliver the box. You never come down to see how I'm doing."
"Hey!" Yoongi shouts. "You never came to see me either! And you said you would, so yeah, I didn't come down but that's because you never came to see me like you promised. So I just assumed you didn't want to see me at all!"
"Yeah! Because you looked so enthusiastic to kick me out!"
Jeongguk breathes heavily, and Yoongi's hands are in fists at his sides. And he just wants to yell at Jeongguk and tell him that no, he fucking kept the box because he wanted Jeongguk to have a reason to come back to see him.
And no, the only reason he didn't come to see Jeongguk in his new studio was because he was afraid of seeing Jeongguk be happier alone than he was with Yoongi. And that he actually loves the way Jeongguk hovers around sometimes with coasters and napkins and dusters. And he loves living on the same schedule. He loves the comfort of their silences and the peace he find in himself with a single rub of Jeongguk's hands over his shoulders.
"I miss you," Yoongi admits under his breath.
Doe eyes. "What?"
"Don't you get it? I miss you. I miss your stupid face in my room and your stupid ass in my bean bag chair."
Jeongguk frowns, unconvinced. "I'm sure."
"I kept all your stuff in my room because, because—" he doesn't know if he can say it. Because once he does everything might change. It's getting too close to the whole truth. And pretty soon here the younger's gonna have enough of the pieces to put it together without Yoongi having to confess a thing. "I kept all your stuff because I couldn't keep you."
Yoongi's breath shudders, "And I've kept my room clean because it makes it feel like..." it's so dumb. And Yoongi feels dumb when he says it. "It makes it feel like you're still in there with me. Just a little bit."
And then Yoongi hisses, regret spiking up, hand going to the back of his own head anxiously and he feels the chills creeping back up his spine. He is so fucking stupid. Why did he have to get so attached? Why did this have to happen? Why is he here, admitting this to Jeongguk?
He stares at the space between them, praying for the floor to swallow him up whole.
He's really got it bad, if it's come to this.
Jeongguk is silent for far too long, and Yoongi has to force himself to look up again. The younger has his teeth clenched together, like he's holding himself back from saying something.
"Yoongi-hyung," Jeongguk's voice is soft, but grows more aggressive with each word. "Why the fuck do you think my room's a mess?"
And honestly. It should have been obvious.
They suck at using their words, so, yeah. They tried showing each other how they feel without them and, yeah, the didn't understand each other. But now it's like light shining through a diamond. Like the ocean surrounding Jeju island. Crystal. Clear.
"Yoongi, I couldn't help it. My room became a mess because I—I missed you too. And I was upset because I thought you didn't care I was gone. And so I never came to see you because I thought you didn't want me too. And I left my box in your room because I was waiting for you to bring it to me."
"I haven't gotten a thing done since you left," Yoongi admits, biting his lip. "I need your encouragement."
"I haven't slept comfortably since I left your bean bag. My back's hurt like hell for weeks."
"I've started collecting coasters."
"I'm okay having some dust around."
"I keep wearing the sweater you left behind."
"I play music as loud as you do."
"I can't stand the silence when you're not sharing it with me."
Jeongguk sucks in a sharp breath, and Yoongi wonders of he's gone too far. But Jeongguk's soft gaze and smile assure him otherwise.
"I've never felt more alone than I have since I got my own studio," Jeongguk tells him in a rush. His cheeks flushing and his eyes dancing between Yoongi's and a spot on the floor.
It's strange how this conversation is longer than any of the ones they had in Yoongi's studio.
Yoongi wonders what would have happened if they'd talked for longer, sooner.
But he also knows that the reason they didn't, is because they both see the value in actions. In putting yourself physically out there.
Which is why it seems only natural for Yoongi to find himself toe-to-toe with Jeongguk, wrapping his hands around the younger's face and peering up at him, full of hope and exepectations.
When Jeongguk closes the space between their lips and they chastely press together, Yoongi breaks into a smile and he can feel the weeks of tension melting away from he shoulders. They sprinkle kisses on each other's faces and Yoongi finds himself melting into the younger man, so very tired.
And he finds himself recognising the worth of words.
"I really, really like you, Jeongguk."
Jeongguk kisses his cheek, and Yoongi can feel his grin.
"I really like you too," Jeongguk blushes more.
A lot of the time, Yoongi prefers to be alone. But he finds it impossible to imagine being without Jeongguk.
Yoongi presses his face into Jeongguk's sweater and breathes him in. The younger wraps his arms around him in a tight hug, and shuts his eyes. They're exhausted. But at least they're together.
Their cluttered hearts have been sorted out.