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"Yoongi?" Seokjin's voice filters through his door.
It wasn't particularly loud and he knows that if it had been anyone else they might have not heard it. But 4 AMs for him have become some sort of routine and a little bit more than that.
4 AMs are soft knocks on hardwood doors and silently slipping into each other's rooms. 4AMs are hushed whispers of hellos and quickly shuffling their clothes off. 4 AMs are chaste kisses on the neck and the jawline, biting at each other's lips while stumbling to the bed. 4 AMs are gasps and moans and grasping at the sheets before breathing out each other's names as they collapse on top of each other. 4 AMs are wiping each other down and wordlessly putting their clothes back on. 4 AMs are nods with small smiles and slipping through the door again before the crack of dawn.
4 AMs are secrets, are thrills, are lies. But it's Seokjin. Hearing his voice hadn't been an issue because he had already been waiting for it to begin with.
“Yoongi,” Seokjin calls again, a little louder this time. “I got your message.”
He heaves a light sigh, his eyes travelling to the only window in his room. Outside, the city skyline is still a dark silhouette but he can see the sky begin to gradient into a navy blue just beyond the horizon.
He watches the sun rise a lot more often than it sets. He could attribute it to the nature of his job--the idol life is never a 9 to 5--but sometimes he thinks it could be a sign for him. A sign that no matter how hard his life gets, tomorrow is just around the corner. A sign that while every day ends with the night, every day also starts with a new beginning. A sign that even after Seokjin leaves his room again and again, his back always towards the window, there is hope that one day he’ll stay to watch the sun rise with him.
Not like he believes it’ll actually happen, of course, ‘cause it is at best just wishful thinking.
And yet.
“Yoongi?” Seokjin’s voice sounds a lot closer, like he’s almost pressing his lips to the door. “Are you there?”
“Yeah, hyung,” he calls out, pushing himself off his bed with a groan. “I’m coming.”
“Coming?” Yoongi can practically see Seokjin’s shoulders shaking as he snickers. “Don’t tell me you started without me?”
Yoongi stops in his steps and stares blankly at the still-closed door. “I could continue without you too, if you want.”
“Yah, Yoongichi,” Seokjin drawls, his muffled voice sounding the slightest bit miffed. “Don’t be like that. Can’t you humor your hyung?”
Yoongi narrows his eyes as if Seokjin can see him. “If you want to joke about how we’ve been fucking each other in secret out in the hallway where the others can hear you loud and clear, then be my guest, hyung.”
Seokjin doesn’t reply to him at once and he kicks himself inwardly because he may have said that a lot more bluntly than he intended. He stays rooted to where he is standing, straining his ears to hear how Seokjin will react.
It doesn’t help when the hands of the clock in his room suddenly become pronounced and imposing, ticking away every second that passes while Seokjin doesn’t make a sound.
“Hyung?” he almost slips when Seokjin beats him to it.
“Yoongi?”
He silently shudders out the breath he’d been holding.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
The clock ticks away ten times.
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
“The door’s unlocked?”
“Like it always is.”
‘For you, it always is,’ his mind continues and he fights the urge to wrangle his stupid, stupid heart.
Seokjin slides through the door quickly and quietly. Effortless, especially after having done it over and over again over the course of months. Yoongi silences the thrumming across his skin.
'Not now. Not yet,' he tells it.
The door closes with a click. Seokjin turns around to face him, the same small smile playing on his lips like an invitation. Or an acceptance of one.
Except, Yoongi doesn't want him to be here for that. Not anymore anyway.
Seokjin takes one step.
Two steps.
Three.
He lingers for a bit.
Teasing him.
Taunting him.
Tempting him.
But he will not falter. This morning will be different. If he wills to be, it will.
"Yoongichi--"
"Hyung."
They stand exactly a feet apart. But at that moment, Yoongi knows Seokjin is farther than he's ever been.
The older's forehead creases slightly.
"Is something wrong?"
This is it. He has one chance. Only one.
"I want you to love me."
Seokjin pauses before laughing.
"I already do?"
Yoongi slowly feels his plan start to fall apart. But he presses on.
He shakes his head.
"Not just physically. I want more than 4 AMs, hyung. I want you to see the sun rise with me. To stay. After everything."
The smile on Seokjin's face slowly fades. Like a photograph that's been time-lapsed as it grows older and older.
"What--what are you saying, Yoongi?"
Yoongi presses his lips together. The truth, he finds, is much harder to say than it is to feel.
"I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you. And I thought that if I went along with what you wanted, you could start to love me too."
Seokjin stares at him.
Just.
Stares at him.
"You--did--was I? Was I ever someone you could love?"
Before Seokjin could part his lips to reply, the loud and obtrusive pause that lapsed throughout it was enough of an answer.
"Get out."
"Wait, Yoongi--"
"I said, get out!"
"Listen to me first--"
"I don't want to! Leave me alone! Get out!"
He knew his screams were loud enough to wake up the rest of the members. Heck, it was loud enough to wake up the entire neighborhood. But the repeated cracking inside his ribs were thunderous in comparison; it was all he could hear.
When Seokjin doesn't budge, he pushes him away hard.
The floor shakes from underneath his feet like a thousand earthquakes disturbing the peace of the world all at the same time.
"Yoongi, please--" Seokjin tries again but Yoongi can't have him here.
He can't.
He won't.
"Leave already, hyung. I'm not going to have sex with you anymore. There's nothing left for you to do here!"
The tears in his eyes sting like salt pressed into an open wound. They flood his vision like a raging river in a thunderstorm. They flow down his cheeks like waterfalls that have no end. They drop to the floor in a bright shade of crimson, his heart wrung out completely empty as he holds it captive in between his fingers.
Lifeless.
Dead.
Gone.
Seokjin looks up at him with an emotion he doesn't care to identify.
'I love you.'
He slowly stands up and stays where he is.
Staring.
Simply staring.
'I hate it.'
A sob escapes Yoongi's hollow chest.
"Please. Just go."
"I'm still your hyung--"
"I don't care! Just leave me alone. Please."
"Yoongi--"
"Please!"
He doesn't know how much time passes before Seokjin listens to him. But he eventually does. Because, as stubborn as Seokjin can be, Yoongi is thrice that if he tries hard enough. And if he was being foolish too--
Well.
He's here right now, isn't he?
His knees give up along with his resolve. They hit the floor at the same time, a loud thwack on the wooden planks. Like a marionette with its strings cut.
Behind him, the sun makes its bitter debut.
Turns out, no one will be watching it today. Or ever.
It was, at best, just wishful thinking after all.