Chapter Text
“Namjoon-ah, stop pacing,” Yoongi calls, finally giving up on trying to tune the younger out. “You’re just driving yourself into a spiral.”
“I can’t help it!” Namjoon stops pacing but moves to channel his agitation at Yoongi, “I’m worried!”
“I’m worried too, but we can’t do anything right now,” Yoongi reminds him, and himself too, “He’ll be back any time now, and we won’t be able to do anything for him if we’re jittery with worry.”
For the first time all night, Namjoon stops shaking and takes a deep breath. He shakes his limbs, like the worry stuck to him is tangible and just needs to be shaken off.
“Why don’t you sit down?” Yoongi offers, standing up to head to the kitchen, “I’ll make some tea.”
Namjoon takes Yoongi up on his offer without much resistance, taking a seat at the sofa as Yoongi heads to the kitchen. Yoongi sets the water to start heating up and sneaks a look at Namjoon while he waits for the water to boil. He smiles at the sight of the younger trying out every breathing exercise that he knows, having learned them all for situations just like these.
When Yoongi returns to the living room, two chamomile teas in hand, Namjoon has turned the TV on in an attempt to distract them from the incessant worrying they’ve been doing all day. The volume is inaudible, but at least it’s something to look at while they wait.
It’s endearing to watch Namjoon dive for the tea and not even wait for it to cool down before he takes a big sip, and then regret it. If it weren’t for the reason they need this tea, Yoongi would laugh.
So he doesn’t.
Instead, Yoongi takes the little teaspoon he’d brought and stirs his tea, watching the liquid swirl around as he stirs it. He’s not as much of an avid tea drinker as Namjoon is, but this part is soothing. It doesn’t taste half bad either, especially when Yoongi adds honey to it.
They sit in silence, watching their teas, Yoongi stirring his and Namjoon probably willing for it to calm down. The TV may be on, but the only thing Yoongi can hear is the ticking of the clock on the wall. It’s a weird juxtaposition, his hands are steady and the tea is calming to look at, but he can hear the ticking like it’s ringing in his ears and he can feel his body warm up and his heart rate speed up. He’s calm and anxious at the same time. He knows that if he looks at Namjoon, he’ll probably see the opposite. Namjoon’s body may be jittery and shaky but his mind is probably working a mile a minute to rationalise everything and keep him calm.
Hoseok had called them opposites when he’d first met them, but now he knows, just like them, that it’s just one of the many ways they work together because they are so different.
“Like two pieces of a puzzle coming together to complete each other!” Hoseok had said, and he’d been right.
Hoseok, the last occupant of their shared apartment, and the person they’d been sitting here worried and waiting for.
The front door chimes, signalling that someone’s entered the correct passcode and both Yoongi and Namjoon set their barely touched teas back on the tray on the table. Namjoon moves to get up but Yoongi puts an arm out, signalling him to stay sitting down. The last thing they need to be doing is smothering Hoseok, especially after the day he’s had.
The wait is almost painful, but Yoongi clenches his fist, physically restraining himself from jumping up to run to the door. He’s been in the same position that Hoseok has, and if they were to suddenly run up to him, he might not be able to handle it. It’s been a difficult day for them, Hoseok especially, so they have to respect him first.
After what feels like a million years, Hoseok emerges in the doorway separating the living room from the entryway.
Yoongi remembers his heart aching when Hoseok had broken the news to them earlier that day, and he remembers his heart aching all day waiting to see Hoseok in person, but at the sight of the dancer, Yoongi’s heart breaks all over again.
The Hoseok that Yoongi and Namjoon have come to know is always glowing. Even at the end of a long day, Hoseok never fails to look as fresh as he does at the start of the day. And where most people would like a mess after coming back from hours of gruelling dance practice, Hoseok looks like he’s glowing.
But this Hoseok, he looks neither fresh nor is he glowing.
His hair is dishevelled, less like it is when he’s finished a dance practice and more like when he’s woken up from a nightmare. He smiles at his two roommates and it looks the weakest Yoongi’s ever seen it. It’s just a little reminiscent of the usual heart shaped smile he always wears, because Hoseok is nothing if not a fighter, but it’s still the weakest Yoongi’s ever seen it.
His eyes match his smile; where Hoseok’s smile is weak today, his eyes, usually bright and determined, are dimmed and tired.
All in all, he looks like a shell of the Hoseok that Yoongi and Namjoon have come to know and love.
“Hey,” Hoseok greets, sounding much like Yoongi when he’s trying to hold himself together. His voice doesn’t shake and it isn’t weak, but it’s the lowest he’s ever spoken.
Yoongi grips the edge of the sofa with the hand that Hoseok can’t see, angry. He’s going to find that backstabbing bitch and give him what he deserves. Only the worst person could have Hoseok in their lives and turn him into a zombie like this.
“I’m gonna shower first, is that ok?” Hoseok asks, and Yoongi hates that he does. Hoseok could ask them to hijack a plane and fly to the edge of the world and Yoongi and Namjoon would say yes. He can’t imagine saying no to Hoseok, not ever, but especially when he's like this.
“You’re not gonna eat?” Namjoon asks, and Yoongi doesn’t need to look to know the worry in his voice is probably reflected on his face.
“Maybe some juice,” Hoseok smiles, just as small as his voice, “if there’s any left.”
Yoongi can’t remember if there’s any juice left, but he knows that if there isn’t, he or Namjoon will run to the store the instant Hoseok enters the shower and return before he comes back out, even if the sprint has them coughing up their lungs.
“Alright,” Yoongi nods, “I’ll get your Snoopy pyjamas.”
Hoseok gives him another small smile, and then leaves to his room without another glance at either of them.
When they hear the bathroom door close, Namjoon shoots up from his seat and runs to the fridge.
Yoongi picks up the tray with their untouched tea and when he enters the kitchen area, Namjoon pulls out the bottle of orange juice.
“We’re in luck today,” Namjoon says, even though it’s the first time today they’ve had any good news.
Namjoon clears up their tea and prepares the juice, while Yoongi heads to Hoseok’s room to fetch his Snoopy pyjamas, the really soft ones that he likes to wear when he’s upset. When Yoongi knocks on the bathroom door, Hoseok tells him to leave them on the shelf by the door, and Yoongi complies.
When Yoongi returns to the kitchen, Namjoon’s prepared their tray of juice and glasses, ready for them all to share.
“You go change,” Yoongi instructs, voice low, “I’ll take this.”
Namjoon doesn’t argue and quietly heads back to his room to change into his nightwear. Yoongi grabs hold of the tray and heads to Hoseok’s room, setting it on his bedside table. He then heads to his own room to change into his softest pyjamas, ready to cuddle the pain out of one of his best friends.
When he emerges from his room, he finds Namjoon standing outside his own door, watching the bathroom door. Hoseok is standing in the doorway, towel wrapped around his waist. Yoongi looks at him in question too, because Hoseok is not wearing the pyjamas Yoongi set out for him, the ones for a night like this.
Yoongi and Namjoon are not prepared for this, for Hoseok to reject the pyjamas they always wear when one of them is upset and they all need to lie together and cuddle to sleep.
“Everything okay?” Yoongi asks, despite being terrified of the answer.
“Everything’s fine,” Hoseok smiles, still dim, but just a little bit brighter than before, “I don’t think tonight warrants the Snoopy pyjamas though.”
Yoongi just blinks. Namjoon’s stunned into silence too.
“Just let me change and then we’ll talk, okay?” Hoseok asks, voice assuring them, even though that’s Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s job right now.
The two in question can only nod.
Hoseok gives them one last smile and disappears into his room.
Namjoon immediately looks to Yoongi.
“Hyung,” he pleads.
“I know,” Yoongi grits, “it’s fine, we’ll figure it out.”
Namjoon doesn’t look assured, and Yoongi doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t even believe himself.
The only thing giving him any semblance of hope is the way some of Hoseok’s brightness had returned to him, and the way he’d assured them even though he wasn’t in any state to the last time they’d talked several hours ago.
When Hoseok calls them in, neither of them move, too scared of what they’d find.
For days and nights like these, they have a system. They have this system of eating whatever the one who’s sad wants to eat, while they all lie in his bed in their softest pyjamas, talk about everything, or not talk, in a lot of Yoongi's cases at first, and then fall asleep together, clinging to each other like they’re scared the others will be gone in the morning.
But Hoseok rejected the system, he’d said no to the pyjamas, and he did it knowingly.
Yoongi hopes that it means that he isn’t as upset, and not the opposite; that he’s too upset and Snoopy pyjamas and cuddles aren’t enough for it. He doesn’t know how they’d handle if it was the latter.
Yoongi moves first, hesitating when his hand is on the door handle, but pushes through; Namjoon right behind him.
Hoseok is already sitting on the bed, in pyjamas, but not the pyjamas he’s supposed to be in.
“Don’t look so scared,” Hoseok laughs, and Yoongi could almost forget the way he’d looked and sounded just half an hour ago, “I’m fine now, I promise.”
Accepting the go ahead, Yoongi lets go of the door handle and joins Hoseok on the bed. Namjoon closes the door behind them and moves to sit on the bed on Hoseok’s side. As the system dictates, the upset person has to be in the middle of their cuddle sandwich, even if Hoseok doesn’t look like he needs it right now.
“Sorry I worried you guys,” Hoseok apologises and it makes Yoongi’s blood boil.
“That asshole’s the one who needs to apologise,” Yoongi replies, even though he knows an apology won’t be enough for him.
Hoseok laughs. It comes out brighter than before, almost as if Hoseok’s brightness is returning bit by bit and Yoongi basks in the way he feels listening to it. It’s maybe one of his favourite sounds in the world, the other being the sound of Namjoon’s laugh. Hoseok laughs and pats Yoongi’s back.
“Thanks hyung,” Hoseok replies, still smiling, “that’s not necessary, but the sentiment is appreciated.”
Hoseok moves the hand that was patting Yoongi’s back and slings it around his shoulders, and does the same to Namjoon with his other arm. He brings them close, and Yoongi and Namjoon let him.
When he loosens his hug, Namjoon speaks.
“Hobi,” Namjoon’s voice is soft, but Yoongi can hear the pleading in it, “what happened?”
Hoseok doesn’t say anything, but he does remove his arms from around his friends’ shoulders and asks for Yoongi to pass him his glass of juice.
Yoongi sits up straight and starts pouring them all their juice, Hoseok first, then Namjoon, and himself last.
Hoseok accepts his glass, but doesn’t drink it. He tilts the glass, watching the juice slosh around as he gathers his words.
“Well, when I called you guys, I was probably at the height of upset,” Hoseok starts, and takes a sip of his juice, “so sorry for scaring you guys like that.”
“Don’t be sorry for being upset,” Namjoon says, “you had every right.”
“Thank you,” Yoongi struggles to say, still trying to build the habit of saying this, “for telling us first.”
Namjoon agrees and Hoseok smiles, both like he’s grateful for his friends and proud of Yoongi for staying true to building his habit of appreciating the trust that comes with emotional vulnerability.
“Are you really feeling better?” Namjoon asks, like he’s been burning to ask since Hoseok emerged from the bathroom.
“Yeah,” Hoseok affirms, “I feel a little bit better, and it helps that I know that I’ll be okay.”
“Of course you will,” Yoongi assures, moving an arm to rub Hoseok's back, “you’ve got us.”
“I do,” Hoseok beams, even though Yoongi can feel a ‘but’ coming.
“You guys help, you guys help so much,” Hoseok says, making sure to emphasise how grateful he is for the both of them, “but I think that even if I didn’t have you guys, I would be okay.”
Yoongi and Namjoon lock gazes, and then look back at Hoseok for an elaboration.
“Choi let me off for the rest of the day, obviously,” Hoseok starts, “so I didn’t really have anything to do, but I still wanted to be alone.”
Yoongi nods, remembering Hoseok’s texts to just wait for him at home, to give him the alone time he needs before he’s ready to face them and talk about it.
“I went to the city,” Hoseok says, and Yoongi feels his and Namjoon’s attention skyrocket, “I just wanted to get away.”
It makes sense, if Hoseok had left campus to go to the city centre. It’s quite a trip, much longer than the one to the dance studios. It’s probably why Hoseok was so late coming home. Yoongi feels a weight on his heart lift at the revelation that Hoseok was late because he was far away and not because he’d lost track of time at the studio overworking himself or something.
Hoseok downs the rest of his juice and hands the glass back to Yoongi, who puts it back on the tray on the side table. When Yoongi twists back around, Hoseok is leaning back on his hands, gaze somewhere far away, probably wherever he went when he’d been in the city earlier today.
“Did it help?” Namjoon asks, even though they can all see that the trip was clearly good for Hoseok.
“I found a dance crew.” Hoseok says, and he’s smiling like he’s just discovered dance all over again. “They were just having fun by the bridge, and they let me join them.”
“That’s good.” Namjoon affirms.
“I had fun,” Hoseok nods, looking back to Yoongi and Namjoon, “I was only with them for half a day, but they reminded me of everything I liked about dance back when I first started enjoying it.”
Yoongi understands that, and he knows Namjoon does too. All three of them study the thing they’re passionate about, but sometimes, when you’re caught up in the grading system and the pass criteria and the opinions of all your teachers and peers, it’s easy to forget how and why you fell in love with what you do.
Namjoon and Yoongi often get together to just play around with their equipment, having fun with whatever they come up with, whenever their studies get too stressful and they need a reminder of why they’re here in the first place.
Sometimes Yoongi wishes he could dance, so they could share this refresher with Hoseok too.
“I don’t know,” Hoseok scratches the back of his neck with one hand, “I’m glad I found them.”
“We’re glad you found them too,” Namjoon smiles, speaking for both himself and Yoongi.
“Yeah, I know Minsook took that slot from me,” Hoseok says, “but after today I feel like I’ll be fine as long as I always have dance.”
He sits up and beams at both of his friends.
“No one can take dance away from me, you know?”
Yoongi and Namjoon know, of course they know.
“And no one can take you from us either,” Yoongi adds as he slings an arm around Hoseok. Namjoon agrees as he slings his own arm around Hoseok, who in turn wraps his arms around both of them.
Yoongi stares out of the window of the room for the hundredth time that hour. He’s never wanted a class to end so badly before. He’s not even in any rush to get anywhere, he just wants to be away from his class and by himself.
Pulling his gaze back to his books laid open in front of him, Yoongi closes books and turns pages until he’s looking at his timetable.
He stares at the confirmation that he’s got two free hours after this and then he looks up at the clock. Five more minutes. He can hear some people that have already started putting away their things. Just as eager as them to get out of here, Yoongi starts putting his things away too, trying to be as quiet and discreet as he can.
He’s halfway through when the class is dismissed and he just throws the rest of his stuff into his bag, slings it over his shoulder and moves to leave the room.
Yoongi follows the route he’s memorised, walking down hallways and turning corners until he’s downstairs, at the lowest floor. There’s a flimsy and torn curtain hanging on the side of the wall in the hallway, and there’s a set of two creaky looking steps at the foot of the curtain.
Yoongi smiles at the sight, and then moves to lift the curtain and take the creaky steps into the abandoned old hallway.
He doesn’t know what this place is, but he’s glad that he found it back in his first year when he’d gotten terribly lost. Over the years he’s concluded that this old abandoned hallway is just an architectural mistake, and instead of fixing it, the university just covered it up. They don’t need to fix it, since no one comes down here anyway, and the money could go somewhere better than to fix one architectural mistake in the almost basement of one of the university’s oldest buildings.
The torn curtain and the creaky steps make it look like there’s some witch’s house on the other side, but Yoongi walks through the standard corridor until he reaches the one door on the end. Looking at the way the hallway is shaped more like a trapezium than a rectangle, Yoongi can see why the university would cover up this mistake instead of paying money to halt studies in the building and fix this hallway with one room that no one uses.
No one except Yoongi, that is.
Hiking his bag higher up on his shoulder, Yoongi puts his hand on the door handle and takes a deep breath. This is the funny part. He fumbles with the door, even though it looks and feels a lot less like fumbling and a lot more like fighting. He twists the handle and pushes at the door and pulls it and twists the handle the other way in his attempts to open it.
Eventually the door unsticks and Yoongi sighs in relief. He smiles to himself as he enters the room. The door is always a struggle to open, Yoongi never knowing if his irregular fumbling is going to work, but Yoongi likes it this way. He likes the way this room is so hidden away, the way you have to work to get to the room. First by locating the room, hidden in a hallway covered by a curtain and steps, and then by figuring out the door, always jammed like it’s a key stuck in a lock in a language unknown.
It feels more rewarding to enter the room and use its gifts, when there’s all this effort behind it.
Gifts, like the grand piano that sits in the middle of the room.
Yoongi uses his foot to maneuver the box situated beside the door so that it acts like a door stop, dumps his bag on the floor and comes to sit at the piano.
He traces the keys with his fingers, the keys that he cleans sometimes when the dust in the room builds, the keys of the piano he’s been visiting ever since he’d first found it back three years ago.
He closes his eyes and thinks back to last night.
They’d expected Hoseok to come home and break down. But he’d only looked tired and after one shower, was as good as new.
Like he hadn’t had his heart broken only hours before. Like he hadn’t been betrayed in maybe the worst way only hours before. Like the person he’d considered one of his best friends hadn’t taken the ticket to his dream right from under his nose, especially after knowing how badly that ticket meant to Hoseok.
Dance had healed him. Hoseok’s raw love for dance had healed the heartbreak he’d suffered from losing an opportunity to dance.
It was so nice to think about. The way that Hoseok had been torn apart upon finding out that his opportunity to dance, his opportunity to do the one thing he loved more than anything, had been stolen from him. Only for dance to find Hoseok and show him again why he’d fallen in love with it, to show and prove to Hoseok that opportunities will come and go but the love he has for dance can’t be taken from him.
People will come and go, but dance will always be by Hoseok’s side.
Yoongi presses his finger down, and a single note sounds out.
He’s not as lucky as Hoseok, Yoongi knows.
What dance is for Hoseok, is not what music is for Yoongi.
Music is good for venting, but everything is good for venting. Hoseok dances to vent, Namjoon writes to vent, Jieun paints to vent, and people Yoongi knows through Jimin work out to vent.
Music is also good for getting Yoongi’s thoughts and feelings down. He knows that almost all artists are like this; because art is feeling. At its very core, art is just the way people feel about the world. Whether it be paintings or paper mache sculptures or songs or dance routines or words, art is nothing but the way the artist feels about the world.
Yoongi plays the first few notes of the very first piece he’d learned to play on the piano, and he wishes he could remember how it all started for him.
Hoseok’s told them about how he’d found dance, even though he always says that dance found him, but Yoongi can’t pinpoint a moment when music became important to him. He only remembers making musical sounds with whatever toys he was given, or whatever items he could find in the house, and he remembers leaving playing with toys in favour of humming tunes that would come to him, and he remembers music becoming more prominent in his life, but he doesn’t remember a time when it wasn’t important to him.
Yoongi and music didn’t find each other, Yoongi knows. You cannot find something that has always been with you.
While Hoseok’s heart and love for dance are attached to each other, Yoongi thinks that maybe music is just part of his own heart. It’s not like Hoseok where he’d had to live a life without it, and then discover it. He’d grown up with it, living inside of him, taking form in the way he’d play with his toys, in the way he’d hum whatever was in his head, always tapping to some beat, and so on.
Yoongi thinks that for his reason, he doesn’t have love in his heart for music. Of course he enjoys making music, he enjoys listening to music, he enjoys learning about it, otherwise fighting to study it would have been both a terrible decision and a stupid one.
Yoongi likes music, but he doesn’t think there’s any earned love in his heart for it. He likes it and it helps him vent when he’s upset, that’s it.
The only way Yoongi can think to explain it in a way that makes sense, is by using Namjoon and Jimin.
They’ve been together a long time, long enough for all three of them (Namjoon, Jimin and Yoongi) to know that the two of them are in love. Not that fickle kind of love that seems to be overly portrayed in media, but that real love that everyone seems to want to strive for, but no one really knows what it looks like.
And Yoongi’s been friends with Namjoon almost ten years now, he’s been in Namjoon’s life longer than Jimin has, he’s known Namjoon long before he’d met Jimin. Yoongi remembers the way Namjoon had existed before Jimin, and he sees the way that Namjoon exists now, with Jimin.
The only difference between the two is the love for Jimin that Namjoon has in his heart.
They never had a perfect relationship, starting off on a rocky road. But they’d worked through it, they’d fought for each other, even if that fighting looked a lot like crying in bed and talking through how they felt even if it was the last thing they’d wanted to do.
That’s the difference. Namjoon and Jimin lived separate lives, and then when they met, they’d grown love for each other, and even to this day, they cultivate that love and fight for it and protect it and take care of it. They know what life is like without that life, and they know that this love is not forever, so they do their best to make the most of what they can.
Yoongi’s love for music is not something he had to discover and build and grow and take care of. He doesn’t know a life without it, so it is not something he thinks he can lose. It just lives with him, and he doesn’t know anything else.
The same way that you grow out of interests you have when you’re young, Yoongi thinks that if he never makes music again, he’ll be alright. He’s got proof for this, with that period of time where he’d been so focused on basketball that music had taken a seat so far back it wasn’t even visible anymore.
And Yoongi had been fine.
Music had faded out of his life for a while, and then reappeared when he’d met Jieun. Like it had been waiting for it’s turn, like it will always be there for him, whether right next to him holding his hand and protecting him from the world, or sitting right at the back of his priorities, to catch him should he fall.
And Yoongi followed it. Music had never taken him down the wrong path before, because it was always part of him and his heart, so Yoongi followed it and here he is now.
Sitting at this abandoned old piano, in this abandoned old room, in an abandoned old hallway that shouldn’t even exist.
He sits here and he thinks what it would be like to feel the way Hoseok feels about dance, and the way Namjoon feels about Jimin.
He wonders what it would feel like to discover something, to watch his heart grow attached to it, and to do his best to love it the way it deserved to be loved.
Yoongi plays the keys on the piano, but it doesn’t give him any answers. It only makes the sounds it’s built to make, the sounds it’s always made, the sounds that raised and nurtured Yoongi into the person that he is today.
Music has already done so much for him, all his life, Yoongi can’t ask it to tell him how to live the rest of his life too. Music raised him, stayed in his life like a constant, but not overbearing, and Yoongi’s grateful for that. But he can’t expect it to teach him the one thing he’s meant to learn on his own.
Nonetheless, Yoongi drags himself away from the comfort of the abandoned room and back into the real world.
Classes are dull, but still important, so Yoongi makes his notes and pays attention, but he doesn’t feel anything.
He knows music, and music knows him. Art is only the way you feel, and Yoongi knows the way he feels, because music tells him, and helps him translate it for the rest of the world. Classes for art are only to sharpen the tools; to help refine the bridge that translates the feelings of the artist into the final piece that the world gets to see.
Some people start by learning tools, and other people start by relying on their feelings. Some people don’t need to have feelings, because their tools are strong and their ideas are good, and other people don’t need to have the tools, because their feelings are strong enough, and they are in touch with themselves enough for them to know and understand how to translate their feelings into art.
Yoongi doesn’t know where he stands.
He thinks that maybe he would be alright without tools. The art he makes is not perfect, and it’s not groundbreaking, but it’s not supposed to be. It’s art. It’s only meant to make people feel. And Yoongi knows from more than enough experience, that the art makes people feel. It helps Yoongi feel too, and that’s enough for Yoongi. It’s like when music had left him alone for that period in his life, to make room for another interest, and Yoongi had been fine without it. Music is good to have, but it’s not vital for Yoongi.
On the other hand, there is no loss in learning. Going to classes and learning about how to refine the tools that he’s managed to scrape together in the time he’s been teaching himself can only do good for Yoongi. He can only get better at translating his feelings. Yes, it’s not a priority, but learning has no downside and Yoongi doesn’t know anything the way he knows music.
For most people, music is the risky choice to study, but for Yoongi, it’s the safe choice.
They’re given a questionnaire, and it’s of a type that makes Yoongi wish Namjoon was in this class with him. It asks questions like ‘what do you think you were put on this earth to do’ and ‘where do you want to be with your art in five years time’ and ‘how do you create with your heart when there are more feelings in your heart than tools in your hand’?
Yoongi gets through the questions alright, once he takes the time to actually think them over.
It’s the question about loss that stumps Yoongi.
What is, for your heart, the worst case of loss that you have ever experienced?
“The worst case of loss,” Yoongi mutters, wracking his brain to come up with an answer, to come up with any answer. Even if his brain could come up with a lie, it would be better than the situation that Yoongi is in. That is to say, he has nothing at all.
Loss. Yoongi doesn’t think he’s ever lost anything, not in the way this questionnaire wants to know.
He’s lost friends as he’s grown older, but they faded out of his life naturally. He’s lost basketball, but he grew out of that the way he grew out of singing the tomato nursery rhyme to his mother any chance that she’d listen. He’s lost some feeling in his shoulder from when he’d shattered it, but that’s gradually coming back.
He hasn’t lost anything, not as far as he knows.
Yoongi drops his pencil onto the table, folds his arms and rests him on the desk. He turns to look out the window, to think.
He wouldn’t say he’s experienced any loss in the way that this questionnaire wants him to, but he’d say that he himself is lost.
It’s the closest he can get to loss. The questionnaire asks about losing something that you once had, but Yoongi’s heart is lost, and he doesn’t know what the answer is. He doesn’t know what his heart longs for.
Music helps him vent his feelings and it helps him think, but it doesn’t guide him. Yoongi’s grown up with music and he’s grown up feeling lost, feeling incomplete, so music cannot give his heart what it’s looking for. If it could have, it’s had over twenty years to do so.
While most people would feel lost without art, and their medium being the thing they’d been missing, such as Hoseok, Yoongi’s case is not the same. Yoongi’s been lost all this time, but he’s been lost with music by his side.
Yoongi closes his eyes and sighs.