Chapter Text
Yoongi’s fingers curled tightly around the railing halfway up the flight of stairs he was on. He bent over for a moment as he did so, gritting his teeth and wishing again he’d taken the elevator. But he might have met someone in the elevator.
He was only a couple of flights from where he needed to be, anyway. Where he shouldn’t be, though. He was an idiot. His other hand had gone to his ribcage, even though it didn’t help, even though nothing helped, really. He was so fucking stupid.
When the pain subsided into something manageable, he started up again, slower this time. When he stumbled out into the hallway, he was dragging his bag with him instead of carrying it, the weight still pulling at something in his chest and he dug into the pocket of his jeans for his keys.
The apartment was empty, like it would be for the next two weeks. Empty because they were on a break, and Yoongi shouldn’t even be there. He had bought his own apartment. He had planned on staying there while he didn’t have to be working. He shouldn’t be here. It was pointless anyway, just more space where he’d still be alone.
He dropped his bag at the inside of the door and wondered into the bathroom and flicked on the light to stare at himself. The bruising around his eye was already darkening and the swelling had gotten worse. He scowled at himself.
He was an idiot.
He went straight for Namjoon and Taehyung’s room afterwards and stripped one of Namjoon’s oversized hoodie’s that he hadn’t taken with him on the vacation they were supposed to be on from a hanger. His chest burned while getting his own sweatshirt off, hurt enough that there were tears in his eyes by the time he got the hoodie on. It swamped him, but still made him feel a little better.
“Pathetic,” he mumbled to himself, lying down in Namjoon’s bed, curling his injured ribs around Namjoon’s pillow. The tears didn’t leave as the pain subsided and he certainly felt pathetic. It was his own fault for not seeing the signs, for not realizing sooner, wasn’t it?
He buried his face in the pillow, and bit into the inside of his cheek until he got it somewhat under control. Falling asleep was harder.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Namjoon was dead on his feet.
He scrubbed at his eyes as he came out of the elevator and yawned as he stuck his key in the lock of the apartment. He’d thought about going to his own place but the apartment he shared with the others was closer and his vision was getting blurry from lack of sleep by the time he made it back into the city.
He swayed a bit inside the door, staring down in confusion at the bag sitting just inside of it. Someone else was here? He blinked several times, unable to think straight anyway. Feeling like it didn’t really matter, he slipped off his shoes and struggled out of his jacket as he walked towards his room.
He stopped short again, however, after turning the light on and seeing that his bed was already occupied. He stood there for a full minute, blinking, and then walked over. Yoongi was curled around one of his pillows at the very edge of Namjoon’s bed and he was wearing one of Namjoon’s hoodies too.
Namjoon ran a hand through his hair, confused again because he was pretty sure Yoongi had his own apartment he’d said he was going to stay at while they were on break. Also, he wasn’t tired enough that he didn’t feel a little worried almost instantly.
Yoongi only ever stole his(Or sometimes Hobi’s) clothes when he was really upset or hurt. And then, he felt more awake than he had in hours when he got around to the head of the bed and saw Yoongi’s face. His heartrate jumped in his chest and he dropped into a crouch beside the bed, beside Yoongi.
There was a grimace on Yoongi’s face, even in sleep. There was an ugly bruise around his eye, and it was swollen badly. Like someone had punched him. Namjoon stared at him, watched as his breathing hitched when he shifted in his sleep and Namjoon reached for him and lifted the hoodie.
Namjoon’s breath caught when he saw the edges of a bruise that probably spread out along his chest where Yoongi had the pillow pressed. Namjoon sat back on his heels, adrenaline rushing through him, chasing away the tiredness for at least a little bit.
He hadn’t realized he’d made a noise until Yoongi shifted again and then opened his eyes. He simply stared at him for a few seconds and looked like he might just go back to sleep before realizing what Namjoon being there meant and he abruptly sat up, only to pitch forward with a cry, arms curling around his midsection.
“Yoongi.” Namjoon lurched forward, needing to help but not knowing how and he ended up on his knees beside the bed, hands on Yoongi’s knees.
“I’m fine,” he said after a minute, lying back with his knees bent, trying, and failing, to hide the tears in his eyes, “what are you doing here?”
Namjoon opened his mouth, the retort of could ask you the same, not just in the apartment but in Namjoon’s bed, on the tip of his tongue but he squashed it before it could leave his mouth. “What happened to you?” He asked instead, making sure Yoongi heard the concern he felt.
Yoongi frowned. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it fucking matters,” Namjoon said, too loudly, moving so that he was sitting on the bed beside Yoongi, “You’re hurt.”
Yoongi blinked several times, and there were tears again, this time not from pain. He turned away from Namjoon, curling up again, face in his hands.
Namjoon stared at him, pain in his own chest. “Yoongi,” if you’re not going to say anything, “can I stay with you?”
At his jerky little nod, Namjoon quickly got out of his jeans and slid into the bed behind Yoongi. He hesitated for a moment, but Yoongi didn’t protest when Namjoon put his arm around Yoongi’s waist and pressed up close behind him.
Yoongi shook in his arms but made no noise and Namjoon burned to know what had happened but was grateful that Yoongi was letting him hold him at least. He pressed his face into Yoongi’s hair and just held him.
He was angry as well as concerned, too. Angry at whoever it was that had bruised Yoongi but hopefully Yoongi would actually talk to him in the morning. Or maybe…maybe not just him? Namjoon debated with himself over the fifteen or so minutes it took for Yoongi to fall back asleep in his arms and then he got his phone from the nightstand, sending off a text.
-Hey, you still in the city?
-Yeah! What’s up?
-Need you at the dorm. About Yoongi. I think-
Namjoon hesitated before finishing the text, thumb hovering over the keyboard but ended up finishing with what he’d intended.
-I think something bad happened. Come in the morning. Think he’s going to sleep till then.
Namjoon scowled to himself. Obviously, something bad had happened. Yoongi was hurt. That qualified as something bad. He dropped his phone back on the table and pressed his nose back into Yoongi’s hair. He was a little worried that he wouldn’t be able to sleep because of this but even with that, Namjoon hadn’t slept properly in a while and that caught up with a person.
He fell asleep with the frown still on his face.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Hoseok practically sprinted down the hallway towards the apartment he’d been sharing with his bandmates for years. His heartrate had picked up at Namjoon’s texts and hadn’t slowed since then. It was late, and he’d been planning on sleeping before the texts but the adrenaline that shot through him kept him up.
He flicked on the living room light when he got in and made a beeline for the four rooms. He checked Yoongi and Jin’s first before finding them in Namjoon’s and Taehyung’s. He swung the door open enough to see them both asleep. Maybe he should have come in the morning as Namjoon had suggested but he doubted he would have been able to sleep himself if he did.
He stepped silently into the room and his worry only increased. Namjoon was curled around Yoongi’s back and Hobi recognized the too big for him hoodie Yoongi was wearing as one of Namjoon’s. Yoongi only ever stole their clothes when he was really upset or hurt.
When he moved further into the room, arguing with himself about doing so the whole time, and he caught sight of Yoongi’s face, he stopped breathing for several seconds. There was a sudden weight on his chest, and he backed out of the room much faster than he’d entered it, barely managing not to trip over Namjoon’s jeans that he’d left lying at the foot of the bed.
Hobi managed to shut the door softly enough not to wake them and make it out to the living room before making any noise. What was that? It looked like someone had punched Yoongi in the face. Who had done that? Had he been mugged or was it something else? Someone he knew?
Hobi paced the living room as he worked himself up over it, his anger, at whoever had done it, and his concern, over Yoongi, only growing. After a few minutes of this, he stalked towards the kitchen and opened a cabinet to jerk down the container of coffee they kept in there.
One thing was certain, he was not going to be sleeping that night.