Work Text:
The clock inside the studio seemed to bug Yoongi even more than it did thirty minutes ago.
First it was the little out of sync tick from the tock that made him catalog in his brain the question of how could a ₩1,500,000 clock be different to that of a regular ₩3,000 clock. Tilting his head, as if to inspect it, he proceeded to suspect that the culprit of annoyance was actually the pauses in between the tick and the tock. Once he figured that that wasn't enough, he then went so far as to step on his chair to reach and scrutinize the damn thing, because at least with this his mind was at work.
Yoongi was not usually like this. He was not obsessive over minuscule details that had absolutely nothing to do with his current situation (his current situation being: to finish planning and writing all his personal schedules for the preparation of his album release). That is why he knows he was not going to let a stupid clock derail any kind of progress he has on his work.
I have made progress. He berated himself. He opened up his computer and brought out pen and paper, he can call that progress. Right?
Exasperated and completely aware of his derangement, he sighed and finally let himself admit that he needed to get some air. Preferably cold air that would shock him back to his senses. In quick motions, he left the clock hanging on the wall to its own devices, slipped on his pair of black slides, stomping them on the fuck you kitten rug, and let the door softly click behind him.
It was in the middle of December, and by now the building was acclimated to the cold that the vents instantly blew out comforting bursts of well-needed heat that wraps everyone in an invisible blanket. Yoongi loves the feeling. Yoongi loves winter. But his heart also tugged at a loose chord and clenched his insides like crazy just thinking about it. Just thinking about him.
Yes, Yoongi loves the cold. Loves lazing around with his socks warmed, bunched up in two sweaters, and a padded jacket. Loves the way steam blows from the pot of hot spicy ramen noodles to a cup of iced americano that fogs it up. Loves the feel of heat packs hiding under his parka, and forging their way into his fingertips. One might even believe that Yoongi thinks winter is the best season ever. But... maybe not this year. And even the year after that.
Because it's cold and Seokjin might be too.
Shaking his head, Yoongi sighed inwardly and grabbed his beige coat on the rack beside his studio. He thought about getting his third cup of coffee for the day but decided against it. He was already a bundle of jittery nerves, and adding another round of caffeine in his body wouldn't be wise. He needed to clear his head, not fry it even more. He needed to release the giant elephant sitting on his chest for four whole days and try to make sense of why it is even sitting there and mocking him in the first place.
The walk from the hallway to the elevator was quiet and uneventful. On a much busier day, this hallway would be bustling with activity. Staff jogging with a plan and a purpose, managers flying from room to room making sure everything is in order, personal assistants balancing coffee cups and food containers with one hand, and make-up artists delicately taking inventory of their makeup brushes like a surgeon in an operation. So, it was a rare sight to see the hallway devoid of any clamor especially in the middle of the day. But Yoongi relished it anyway. Unusual, yes, but he won't deny that the quiet actually gave him a sense of steadiness. And ironic as it sounds, the pause he gets to witness now was similar to what his heart has been trying to figure out for weeks: his emotions suspended on air. Unfeeling, unmoving, unresponsive, they're just... there. Still. Doing nothing.
The ding of the elevator woke him up from his stupor and was greeted by a bright infectious smile. It was sunlight himself. "Ya, hyung!" Hoseok belted out in a sing-song voice, his smile dazzling, "Which floor?"
Yoongi did not attempt to give back the same enthusiasm, but he still managed a small tug of his lips and a nod. Hoseok's aura itself emanates the kind of warmth that you can never ignore. "The rooftop. You?"
Hoseok shifted and pressed the button that leads to the rooftop and leaned on the other side of the elevator walls, slumping his shoulders, "The meeting room. To review the stuff for GDA some more."
“Ah, right. I know you'll do great." His heart swelled with immense pride, "Knock 'em dead." This time he gave him a toothy grin that is somewhat the irresistible equivalent of Hoseok's laugh.
"You know it hyung!" Hoseok exclaimed. But as soon as his smile reached his eyes, his bubble of energy simmered down to a tranquil hum, "I've already done it a couple of times but it still feels different, you know?"
Yoongi does know. He tried it once. And it was the most thrilling yet terrifying experience in his career. Performing on your own is a tremendous feat that isn't to be taken lightly. It is proving that your individuality and your own sound is worth remembering, it is proving that the name you built for yourself is making a mark in this world. And Yoongi is thankful that he gets to unleash that side of him. But it still feels different. Because how can you shake off the feeling of facing thousands of people on a stage alone when you used to brave it with six other people who know you best in the entire world? Who experiences the same exact trials as you? Who understands the way your mind works and challenges it with you? It was a huge leap from everything they've ever known.
"Yeah. It does feel different." Yoongi murmured. But Yoongi wasn't about to deter Hoseok's spirit especially when all of them have already been feeling like heavy rocks sinking to the bottom of a river since that cold Tuesday morning, "But you'll be amazing Hoba. You always are. You'll show them how it's done."
With an exhale, Hoseok seemed to have washed his own worries away because he reasoned, "You're right. I think missing Jin-hyung is what makes me queasier than before. Now that he's actually in the military, the feeling is just a bit overwhelming. It affects everything. It's emptier when he's not around."
With the mention of his name, Yoongi felt the muscle near his chest tighten. He was aware of the potential torrent barreling down his throat ready to be released if he only let them. He was doing a great job at stomping it down whenever it felt like he was just an inch behind the edge of the cliff. He thinks of blankness, of stillness, of respite, of pause. He associates Seokjin’s name with the emotions he hung on the air. If the rest of the members felt like it was a huge meteor barreling down towards Earth, Yoongi felt like his was floating aimlessly through space. Suspended there.
“He'll be back soon enough Hoba." His tone was clipped. He didn't sound consoling at all, he knew he was being stubborn.
“Of course. Time will fly by like a breeze. We'll all be back together in a blink of an eye." Hoseok paused, not because he said too many clichés in one breath, but because his eyes were surveying Yoongi, "but, hey, you know, missing him and missing the way it was before is part of the whole process. No matter how fast you think the future seems to be. We all need that feeling. Don't try to suppress it, hyung."
“Nah, I don't. You know me." Yoongi shrugged nonchalantly.
“I do. Terribly so. And you know me too. Right now, I'm just looking out for all of you." Hoseok offers him his small smile. The one where the pinch-like dimples beside his lips deepen and he looks more animated than ever. " Especially you."
As if on cue, the elevator announced that Hoseok reached his destination, the 14th floor.
Hoseok stepped out of the doors, and looked back at Yoongi—more sincerely this time, if that's even possible—and nodded to the direction of Yoongi's hands in his pockets, "So, I'm guessing you already saw the scheduled emails he sent? He always has a way with dramatics, I'll give him that."
Yoongi could only blink at Hoseok and managed to stumble out the only words his mouth could register on uttering, "What emails?"
Without hearing what Hoseok mumbled for a reply, the doors of the elevator closed shut. Leaving him and the automated voice relaying that the next stop is the 19th floor.
Suddenly, the phone inside his pocket burned its way through his skin to whatever there is left from his rational thinking. Once the doors flew open, he stumbled to the entrance of the rooftop, with glass halting skin.
Through gritted teeth and a subdued hiss, he reached for his identification card, and slapped it on the security panel that beeps as it let him in.
He was welcomed by a gush of icy wind that immediately stung his nose, a bright glistening skyline, and gray clouds in the shape of cotton candy. The white patches of snow on the benches, and some on the few artificial trees, made it look like a film set. It felt almost ethereal. But the harsh winter was the deal-breaker. No one can enjoy this scenery when they think they might freeze to death.
And that is why Yoongi came here in the first place. He came exactly for its irredeemable factors. That immediate blast of cold air that settled in his lungs the minute he inhaled it, the tingle of his bare toes, the shiver in his breath, the numbing of his fingertips. It was what he needed. Like dousing his entire body with cold water, only he's not drenched.
It's too cold. He thought stupidly. Because he wasn't thinking of himself. He was thinking of Seokjin.
In the past months, he never allowed himself to think much about Seokjin other than him passing by occasionally through his train of thought. He said he didn't want to miss him, so he tampered on everything there is to miss. ‘You'll come back soon enough.’ ‘I heard the food will be okay, don’t worry too much.’ ‘We won't even notice that you're gone, it's that quick.’ ‘We'll all be following you soon, anyways.’ ‘You will be fine, it's not your first winter.’ He repeated those words like a prayer. And when the actual moment came that Seokjin really was leaving, he said nothing. The only thing he could allow himself was done inside the confines of their shared car; a squeeze of a hand, a subtle nod to the direction of the car window, a slight tug of his lips. He can't even look at him.
He can't even look at him, or else he'll shatter.
Yoongi knew how to build his defenses. Knew how to stock up ammunition and when to fire back. Yoongi knew he was strong, knew how to bring himself up whenever he was down in the depths, while also understanding the consequences of pushing himself harder and harder. But on those days, when he feels like his blood is made of metal and his strength is forged in fire, Seokjin is the only one who can make him feel human again.
Seokjin made Yoongi realize that he is not indestructible. That he is bound to break, and that it is alright to deal with the pain. That it is alright to feel the pain. That strength isn't always measured by your will to go on and fight the war, sometimes it's as easy as accepting defeat and learning to live with it in the process. Without even realizing, Seokjin became Yoongi's safe house. A force in his life that could easily tell him that everything is going to be alright, and he'll believe it. But right now, that safe house is temporarily closed. And somehow, his heart unconsciously raced back into war. Barricading his territory, toughening up his exterior, denying all signs of weakness that could break him. Because it will break him. And he cannot break.
It's too cold. His mind supplied him again. He hates the cold.
With numb hands, Yoongi reached out of his pocket and entered the pin code for his phone. He clicked on the email icon and scrolled down to the Primary section that contains important emails.
It did not even take Yoongi a second to navigate it. It is right there in all its highlighted glory. An unread email from [email protected] flashes in front of him.
Yoongi's tears remained at stand-still for months and they did not waver, not once. But now, the familiarity of seeing the stupid, most ridiculous and randomly typed email from the person he needed the most, made his eyes water slowly. He is on the last remaining thread of his defiance.
He blew out a long exhale that wafts a steam, dancing around his periphery, and clicks on the email.
Subject: Don't be stubborn yoongichi open this email once you receive it
From: [email protected]
Date: December 15, 2022, 12:00 AM
Attachment (1):
Dontbestubbornyoongichi.mp4
Without preamble Yoongi hurriedly clicked on the recording, just like how he'd rip a band-aid off from a deep gash of a wound, and placed his phone on his ear. Badly wanting it to feel like a phone call instead of a recording.
Instantly, Seokjin's voice lit up the entire roof. Then inevitably, Yoongi's heart.
“Ah, Yoongi-ah!" the recording started, "if you're actually listening to this right now, then the world is probably ending and you're reading all of your unread messages. Because there is no way." A pause. A breath. And Yoongi could practically hear Seokjin smile through the recording.
“Actually there is. If you're listening to this now and the world isn't ending, then you finally admit to yourself that you miss me, don't you?" Seokjin's voice was playful and full of mischief, but Yoongi could hear beyond it. He sounded just like him when he masked all of the scorching feelings that wanted to erupt. Like adding a little tone of coldness or playfulness here and there would help put a cork in it and seal it all the way through.
“Aaaaaish, I know you too much Suga-ssi. You reassure everyone and the validity of their feelings, but you continue to butcher your own." He was starting to sound solemn when he suddenly blurted, "Oh! Right, speaking of butcher, I'm in your studio right now as I record this. Your clock is broken, by the way. I tried to fix it. Failed. It sounds even worse now. Oops?"
The clock. That fucking clock. It was there the whole time, wanting to tell him something. Yoongi can't help the chuckle that makes its way out his lips that morphs into a silent sob. His tears are already damping his frozen cheeks.
Fuck that clock. Come back to me. He was so stupid. He wanted to scream at himself for being so stupid.
"You're in a meeting right now and I'm here terrorizing your work space and missing you badly. Can you even miss someone who isn’t even gone yet? I don't go for another two weeks but I just want to record this now because I already miss you. Weird. Do I even make sense? You'll keep listening though. You have to.”
I will, you know I will. Yoongi answered in his head. He was barely holding on to the surge of his pent up emotions that he belatedly realized he was now crouching on the snowed walkway, ducking the arm that isn't holding his phone inside his coat to keep it warm. Balling his fist on his chest.
“You've been holding it really well, my Yoongi-chi. I'm proud of you for that. I didn’t want to talk to you and force you to say anything, honestly. But please tell me you at least took a picture with me with my fabulous buzz cut. Or maybe even hooked your arm around mine. Or if you were feeling bold, you might have hugged me tightly this time. Held me until my bones broke so that they wouldn't allow me to enter the camp. That could be fun. Or don't. I don't know. I can't believe I'm blabbing about this right now. I'm not gonna listen to this after. Nope. Ah. Whatever. Just—"
This time, Yoongi sighed in unison with Seokjin's recording.
“Just promise me you'll allow yourself to feel whatever it is that you need to. Alright? Hyung won't be here for you in times that you need it. But everything is gonna be alright, I know that. I hope you do too. If you allow yourself to feel pain, to feel hurt, to drown in whatever emotion you have to, do it. Because that's the only way you'll start to see things clearly. You are special my Yoongi-chi. Always so fucking brave, so courageous, so, so, you."
Yoongi sniffled softly as he inched towards the support pillar, that holds the walkway's roof, and slumped there. He was looking at his toes now. The only line of vision his eyes could focus on.
“You might not hear this often Yoongi-ah, but I love you. I don't say it out loud because you know I say it in a million other ways. And I'm pretty sure you do too."
Yoongi smiled at that.
“But let me say it again, since you won't be hearing me say it for another long while: I love you. There is no one else. I love you and I will miss you. So so much, my Yoongi-chi."
Yoongi doesn't care about choking himself with his own tears at this point. Because, ever so softly, Seokjin's voice welded into the lightest and most intimate whisper that felt like a secret code only Yoongi could decipher.
"So please, allow yourself to love and miss me too. Hm?"
❅
Once Yoongi settled back into the warmth of his studio and the moronic sounding clock he won't ever dare to fix, he started to work on his schedule. With swift efficiency and structured finesse of a madman, he finished it all in under an hour.
Tired—mostly from his breakdown—and starving, Yoongi slumped on his couch and texted his personal assistant to place an order of his usual to-go from the chicken place he frequents to. He needs more than his comfort food, he knows that. But for now, that was enough.
The moment he sent his message and an immediate reply of acknowledgement was seen, Yoongi thumbed mindlessly through his phone. He reached his camera roll and just scrolled and scrolled and scrolled. He wasn't specifically looking for anything, really, just something to allow himself to feel more.
And feel more he shall.
The video he landed on was of Seokjin in his blue printed pajamas, the one he designed himself. His smooth black hair tousled, his eyes closed, his lips pouting downwards. He was peacefully asleep on Yoongi's pale shoulder and the camera was on selfie mode, so it is angled to capture Seokjin's angelic sleeping face. Yoongi can hear himself softly giggling in the background as he caresses Seokjin's bangs away from his eyes. The audio rustled and it soon showed Seokjin scooting further up Yoongi's neck and humming a sleepy "Do you know BTS?". The video ended with Yoongi's shoulders shaking visibly from laughter, and cutting off Seokjin's tsks in protest.
Yoongi watched the video again. And again. And watched it for another three times after that. He missed Seokjin. His heart fluttered with relief for even freely thinking that.
He will keep on missing Seokjin, because he loves him. He will keep on missing Seokjin, because he allows himself to.
Exiting his gallery, he then tapped his muted notification apps folder and clicked on the turquoise colored one that greeted him with a blinding text of 'Weverse Official For All Fans'.
He navigated his way out of all the endless sea of announcements, and tapped on the compose button.
With a smile, that is probably showcasing all his gums and teeth, Yoongi typed on.
❅
슈가 wrote a post:
Hyung, did you pack this favorite pajama of yours? ㅋㅋㅋㅋ Are you sleeping well? I miss you. Don't get sick!
(A close-up photo of Seokjin sleeping with his Good Day Pajamas, his hair unkempt, his mouth pouted downwards. The photo is blurry, probably screen-captured from a video.)