Work Text:
/
The motel room that Yoongi stays at is, for lack of a better word, outright shitty.
The place hasn't been swept in weeks, dust and cobwebs lining the walls. He's found enough food wrappers and some rotting fruits stuffed at the back of the shelves by whoever used the room last. The desk is covered in oil stains that he hasn't bothered to wipe down, and someone's hair is stuck to it in places.
The rent is dirt cheap.
It's a shitty place but it's fine, since Yoongi doesn't do much here. All he needed was a bed to sleep in. He's been here so long that the sheets are starting to stink, stained with food and tears and cigarette ashes and the vaguest hints of blood.
The rent is dirt cheap, and no one bothers to check up on him. It's the ideal place to fall apart.
He lies awake, the lights switched off, staring at the ceiling. His phone has been dead for days, no one can contact him even if they want to. He likes to think no one knows where he is, but he can't be sure of how true that is.
Seokjin has a knack for finding him when he doesn't want to be found, but Yoongi thinks even he is too pissed with him this time to care.
It's the longest Yoongi has ever gone without seeing Jungkook. It's the longest he's ever gone without hearing a single word from him.
He thinks about the last message he'd received -
you're always so sure that I'll still be here.
Yoongi hates himself, but it isn't enough to get him out of bed.
/
The curtains are thick enough for not much light to get in.
Yoongi sleeps most of the day. He sleeps until his head hurts from it, and then he sits awake, in frozen horror of how much time he spent asleep. He can't keep track of how many days it's been since he ended up here. He can't remember anything.
When was the last time he went outdoors?
There's the smallest crack of light that makes it's way through the curtains, just enough to tell him that the sun is still up. It's tiring, how many times the sun rises. How many times it sets. It just goes on and on and on, like a whirlwind he's stuck in and can't get out of.
Yoongi hates sunrises more than anything.
He used to like sunsets, back when he was younger. He thought it marked the beginning of something, a few hours of undocumented freedom when he could wreak havoc and lose his mind. When he could run around and trash the city with his friends, screaming and laughing at people who expected them to function. They were nuisances and made a mess of their lives but it was all on purpose.
For those briefest of moments, it felt like the city was theirs.
But then he spent too many days sitting awake till the sun rose again, too many days watching the streets fill up once more with the busy sounds of life, of people who kept living because someone had told them to and they never thought to question why - and Yoongi realized that the relief of the sunset was just another hopeless illusion. Just a break from the chaos that would start over again.
He never could decide, really, if it was better to fall, over and over, or if it was better to just feel nothing at all.
But now, sitting alone in his motel room, he realizes that at least falling made him feel like he existed.
/
Sometimes, Yoongi dreams that Jungkook is dead.
He dreams that Jungkook is at the top of a building, hands outstretched. That he just stands there for a moment, eyes closed to the sky, before he takes his last step forward.
He dreams - and he doesn't wake up afraid.
The dreams are so real that in a way, Yoongi is certain that it's already happened. He can count the times that he's had to pull Jungkook back over the edge in the real world, how Jungkook would smile at him, eyes crinkled, as if it amused him that Yoongi would make this barest effort to save his life.
He can count the times that he's had to pull Jungkook back over the edge and the boy turned to him with barely contained fury.
It's unlikely that Jungkook never succeeded in stepping off that building. Yoongi is sure that, in some world or the other, Jungkook is already dead. He wonders if that makes a difference - if the fact that Jungkook is willing to die makes him any less dead than if he actually stepped off.
The dreams don't scare him, but they make him reach for his phone. His fingers shake just slightly as he contemplates turning it on, and texting Jungkook back for the first time in months.
you're always so sure that I'll still be here.
He wonders what Jungkook would do if he knew that Yoongi wasn't so sure - that he just couldn't bring himself to do anything about it.
/
Yoongi doesn't eat much.
It's hard to keep food down anymore.
He knows he can't last like this much longer. It goes against everything he's ever done, sitting in this quiet motel room and waiting to fade away. Yoongi always thought if he left the world, he'd leave with an explosion. Taking everything and everyone down with him.
He'd spent entire days flicking his lighter off and on, off and on. Visualizing just how lovely it would be to watch everything go up in flames.
It was always Jungkook who leaned over and blew the flame out. It was Jungkook who wanted to fade out, unseen. To crack like glass and disappear.
On the worst of days, Yoongi had imagined burning him down with him. It was a fear that kept him awake at nights, that he'd lose control of the fire and destroy the one person he couldn't bear to let go of.
On the worst of days, when Jungkook leaned over to blow out the flame - Yoongi saw him burning up.
That was how he imagined leaving. With explosions and flames that were out of control. With some kind of last ditch effort to tell the world that it was a shitty place that destroyed them all.
He didn't imagine this - alone in a shitty excuse for a room, unsure of what day it is or how long it's been and unsure of how long he'll still be around.
The thought is almost enough to make him want to leave the room. This can't be it. After all he's been through, after all the shit he's had to deal with, it seems unfair that the way it ends is with him too tired to get out of bed.
There has to be more. A crash, an end. Something to mark that he's made it this far and that he's leaving because he wants to.
This - this doesn't feel like that. It feels like he's leaving because he doesn't have another choice.
He isn't leaving, he's just - dying.
/
When Yoongi dreams that night, Jungkook doesn't jump off a building.
Instead, he's walking in the middle of the street. He looks exhausted, beaten up, bruises on his face that Yoongi is used to seeing but still make him want to murder someone. Sometimes Yoongi thinks that if not for himself, he'd burn the world down for Jungkook instead.
It's nice to think of - but that's the truth. Yoongi would burn the world down for Jungkook, but he wouldn't save his life.
Because the truth is that he's here, unable to get out of bed, when he doesn't even know if Jungkook is still alive or not.
In his dream, Jungkook is exhausted. Empty. He's wandering around the streets, the street lights too bright and too unfair. He doesn't seem aware of where he's going, and before Yoongi can say stop, before he can say I need you to stay alive but I don't know how to fix you, Jungkook steps into the middle of the road.
There's a moment of horrible clarity, where Jungkook knows what's coming. Where Yoongi knows what's coming. Where neither of them move anyway.
The car hits, sending Jungkook tumbling, and Yoongi -
Yoongi wakes up.
The air is stale, from spending way too long with the windows shut. From smoking indoors even though everyone he's ever met has told him not to.
It's been months since he last saw Jungkook. He doesn't know where he is.
He doesn't switch on his phone, because he's scared of what the answer might be.
/
Once, just once - Yoongi lets himself dream of better things.
It's a quiet night. He's woken up again from the nightmares that he has, and now he's huddled up in his damp sheets, a cup of ramen clutched to his chest. It tastes like nothing, and he doesn't know why he keeps eating it. It's only going to come back up again in a while.
He's fading away. Is this what happens, when no one remembers you? When you've destroyed every good memory that was left of you in hopes that you'd be forgotten?
Sometimes he's afraid that if he goes outside, no one will be able to see him.
He's so empty that his chest hurts with it, like someone's carved a hole into his insides. If he placed a hand over his heart Yoongi is sure it would go right through.
He leans back against the headboard and, for just once - Yoongi lets himself dream of better things.
He dreams of a world where the sunrise isn't something to be afraid of. Where he wakes up and sees the faces of his friends, and they're smiling because they're happy, and not because it's just for a fleeting moment.
He dreams of Jungkook, standing at the edge of the roof, hands outstretched towards the sky because he wants to be alive. Of him turning around, and stepping back down, before Yoongi has to call out to him.
He dreams of Jungkook smiling. Laughing. Listening to Yoongi's music and holding his hand, his fingers fitting perfectly between Yoongi's larger ones.
When Yoongi breaks out of his reverie, his cup of ramen is on the floor, spilt all over. His own hands are fitted together, fingers tucked into each other, in some kind of hopeless attempt at human contact.
The hole in his chest grows more intense, and the tears rise to his eyes unbidden.
/
Maybe it's the next day.
Maybe it's been a week.
Yoongi is sick of not existing.
He wants someone to hear that something is wrong with him. He wants everyone to know. If he has to go down he'll bring as much as he can down with him, he'll leave as much of a disaster as he can in his wake.
He wants to scream that he's hurting, that he's freaking going insane - that he'd do anything for someone to explain to him what the heck is going on, why anything matters, why Yoongi should fucking give a shit -
In the blur of his anger, of his tears - Yoongi almost isn't aware of what he's doing. But as he stands above the sheets, hands shaking in fear or nerves, the can of petroleum in his hands, he realizes - this isn't the way he wants things to end.
The whole room stinks of petroleum. The dirty sheets, that he's never bothered to wash. The empty boxes of food that he threw up every time he tried to eat. The torn up pieces of paper on the floor, from each time he tried to put into words what the fuck was wrong with him and from each time he messed up.
When he lights the match, the fire too bright in the dim light - he doesn't think he's ready. He doesn't think he'll ever be. But he grits his teeth and drops the match into the sheets because he's so -
He's so done. He's so tired.
At least this is an end.
The flames spread too fast. Too hot. He feels the heat sinking into his bones, his lungs, and - this isn't what he wanted either. His insides churn in terror, but there's no where to run to anymore.
He could unlock the door. He could scream and flee, back into the world that he came from.
The thought is somehow more terrifying than the alternative.
He's crying without realizing it, heavy tears streaming down his face as the smoke starts to sink into his lungs. The flames aren't beautiful. The destruction doesn't feel better. Everything is still terrible, whether it goes out with a bang or not.
His fingers fumble with his phone, only one thought in his head.
Jungkook.
Will he be there, on the other side? Waiting for Yoongi? Or is he still here, somehow pulled off the ledge every time he tried to step off?
The phone rings, and rings, and rings, and -
Yoongi doesn't know which answer he's hoping for.
/
(He sees Jungkook's face, covered in tears and smoke and fear and anger, and for the briefest of moments, it doesn't matter to Yoongi which world he's in.)
/
The hospital room is dark.
There's no one else there, and for a moment, Yoongi doesn't know where he is. There's the quiet sound of a machine beeping, an odd pressure on his face. It takes a moment to put the pieces together, but then -
He's in a hospital.
For a moment, Yoongi wonders if this is how people wake up in the afterlife.
He doesn't know how long he lies awake, listening to the machine beep, feeling numb and cold.
The door opens softly, letting a crack of light in, and Seokjin steps inside.
"Hey," Seokjin says. His mouth is turned down, and he looks dead on his feet, but this is still - just another day for him. It's the reason he even left the country all those years ago, he was so done with all of their shit.
There's only so many times Seokjin could watch his friends destroy themselves and pretend there was something he could do about it.
"Hey," Yoongi mumbles, his voice muffled by the mask.
"Well," Seokjin says. He doesn't come any closer, still dawdling by the door. His hands are stuffed deep in his pockets. "So that didn't go well."
Yoongi tries to laugh, but he's exhausted. He's so exhausted.
He didn't think he could fall even lower.
"Jungkook," he remembers. "Where's Jungkook?"
Something passes over Seokjin's face. "I don't know," he says. "I haven't seen him in too long."
Yoongi tries to shake his head, because that can't be right. He was here. Jungkook was here, in the world he woke up to. He was there, in the fire - crying and screaming and trying to keep Yoongi awake.
"That was me," Seokjin says, and he sounds so tired. "In the fire, that was me. Jungkook isn't - no one has seen him. No one knows where he is."
Yoongi thinks of that last, desperate call he'd made, of the phone ringing forever.
you're always so sure that I'll still stay alive.
that I'll be there each time you come back.
The terror that grips him is something he'll never be prepared for. He sees Seokjin panic, come closer to reach for his mask, but Yoongi is too far gone.
/
The outside world isn't as Yoongi remembers it.
The skies are darker. The lights are brighter. The smells overwhelm him and any hint of smoke makes him choke. It's hard to keep putting one step after the other, but he does it because he doesn't have another choice.
He doesn't want to fade away. He doesn't want to burn down. He doesn't want to keep going either, but it's somehow the only choice he can stick with.
Jungkook doesn't pick up his calls. He doesn't reply to his messages. The last person to see him was Namjoon, and it wasn't in the best of situations.
"I was working," Namjoon admits, his voice low and tired. They're all too tired. "He was just wandering around the gas station, and it was pissing my boss off, so - I had to ask him to leave."
What bothers Yoongi the most, is that none of them expect him to care. They answer his questions about Jungkook with the same carelessness that they talk about the weather. Yoongi went missing. Jungkook is missing. No one knows where Jimin went and they haven't known for a year.
None of them have the energy to care at this point.
And Yoongi - gets it. He spent weeks holed up alone, trying to see if he could forget that he existed. He hadn't picked the phone up no matter how many times Jungkook called him, even though he knew that it could have been important.
He gets that there's only so many times you can try to save someone's life before you realize it's all out of your hands.
It's stuck somewhere in between selfishness and self preservation. Somewhere between wanting everyone to be okay and realizing that it's just not that fucking easy.
Yoongi wants Jungkook to be safe.
He wants Jungkook to be happy.
But he can't help him be either, not when every step forward still hurts so much. All he can do is lie awake and be paralysed by it all, by all that he could lose just because he can't power through enough shit to manage to hold on to it.
/
Yoongi is at the bus stop, staring at the graffiti on the wall, when he feels someone step up next to him.
He tenses instantly.
He'd recognize Jungkook anywhere, without even needing to turn around and look. He's known him for too long. Dreamed about him for longer.
For a long moment, neither of them speak a word.
"I thought you were dead," Yoongi manages at last.
Jungkook laughs, but it comes out empty. "I thought you were dead, hyung," he says, a smile in his voice that doesn't fit the situation at all.
Yoongi laughs anyway. The hole in his chest is beating faster, so fast that it hurts. "I nearly was," he admits. "Jin hyung found me in time."
"Ahh."
That's all there is to it. Jungkook doesn't ask if he's okay. Yoongi doesn't ask either. It's an empty question that he doesn't want to hear the answer to.
"You didn't pick up my calls," Yoongi says at last, voice too quiet.
Jungkook shrugs. "You didn't pick mine up either," he says. "I meant what I said, you know."
"Hm?"
"You can't keep expecting me to be here when you come back, hyung. You're - you're never there. It's not fair to expect me to be."
Yoongi shakes his head, the cold spreading further. "I don't expect you to be," he says, and it's the truth. Every day, Yoongi woke up afraid that Jungkook was gone. Every day, he couldn't pick the phone up because as long as he didn't, he could pretend Jungkook was still there. "I just hope that you'll be. You can't blame me for hoping."
There's silence for a while. Yoongi doesn't dare to turn to face him, because he's terrified of the expression he'll see. It's only been months, but already Jungkook feels taller next to him. Older, somehow. No longer the wide eyed boy who'd follow him around wherever he went.
"I don't - " Jungkook starts, voice choked. He takes a deep, shaky breath.
He's crying. Yoongi is sure he's crying, and his own eyes start to burn.
"I miss you, hyung," Jungkook admits. "All the time. Even now, I don't feel like you're here. Tomorrow you'll just disappear again."
And Yoongi can't even promise that he won't. It's not something that's in his control. One day, he's fine. One day, Jungkook being okay is all that matters to him.
The next he can't even get out of bed to check if he's alive.
"I don't want to leave you," Yoongi admits, everything in his chest hollow. "I can't promise that I won't. But I - I really don't want to. I swear."
There's so much he wants to say, so much he'd never dare to. He wants to tell Jungkook how he'd seen his face that night, in the midst of the smoke - that he felt like everything would be alright as long as he was there with him. He wants to say that the thought of Jungkook is maybe the only thing that's kept him going for this long.
But he can't say any of that - not when he hasn't been the same for Jungkook. Not when he's always abandoned him when he needed him the most.
"I know," Jungkook says, and it's so empty that it hurts. "I know."
He doesn't say I don't want to leave you either, and it hits harder than it should.
/