Chapter Text
Yoongi didn’t quite remember when his bipolar episode had kicked in. That was the worst part of it all. There was never a clean moment he could point to and say that was when he lost himself. He had been diagnosed six years ago. Six years of medication, appointments, routines, warning signs and carefully constructed systems that were supposed to keep him steady. Six years of learning his own mind well enough to recognise when something was beginning to shift.
And yet somehow, he has still ended up here. In someone else’s bed. Yoongi just stared blankly at the ceiling, unsure how to feel and for several more seconds, he didn’t move, he couldn’t bring himself to. His body felt heavy, his head thick and aching, his mouth dry. There was also a dull soreness around his waist and hips that made his stomach twist the second he became aware of it.
Then came the faint flashbacks from the previous night, the bar, the loud music, the flashing lights, Someone laughing beside him, a young man with bleached-blond hair.
Jimin, that was his name.
Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut, until a faint fuzz started filling his ears, he should have locked himself in his house then he wouldn’t have drank that much. He wouldn’t have thought he was invincible with his racing thoughts and amplified hearing and his heightened emotions.
the memories kept coming clearer and clearer, the taxi, touching and kissing. The hallway, Yoongi pushing Jimin eagerly up against it, if he was in his usual headspace he would have noticed the scattered toys and kid shoes in the dim hallway lit by small lights that were left on for Jimin coming home. Jimin stumbling while dragging Yoongi into the downstairs bedroom at the back of the two story home. The bedroom door shutting, clothes being pulled off. Yoongi doesn’t remember much after that.
Yoongi finally decided to turn his head slowly. Jimin was lying beside him. The blonde hair that Yoongi vaguely remembered from the bar was completely dishevelled now, strands sticking up in every direction over the pillow that his face was buried into. Yoongi just admired him, he felt like he was floating still, on his high from his episode and from the sex he indulged in the previous night. Then he noticed they were both still undressed beneath the tangled sheets, then his stomach dropped.
“Oh, fuck.” He whispered to himself, He immediately looked away, his face burning hot,
Fragments returned quickly and unwillingly, his own voice… Jimin’s voice… the overwhelming embarrassment afterwards. Yoongi remembered crying, he remembered freaking out. That memory hurt more than anything else. He remembered sitting there, overwhelmed by shame, unable to understand how he’d allowed himself to get so far out of control. He remembered trying to gather himself, taking shaky loud gasping breaths while Jimin had quietly helped him clean up, never laughing, never making a joke about it.
The kindness had somehow made Yoongi feel worse, He rubbed both hands over his face. What the hell had he done, His breathing became shallow as a lump raised in his throat.
He reached instinctively for the bedside table, searching for something familiar, something that could anchor him.
His fingers knocked against a condensed glass of water. He froze, beside it sat some medication. Yoongi stared at it inbetween his fingers. Then he remembered Jimin’s sleepy voice from earlier, before they slept, after the panic.
“Take these. You need them.”
Yoongi took them with shaking fingers. He took the medication with the water and sat there for a moment afterward, holding the glass between both hands, everything started to clear up, the room slowly came into focus.
It was clearly not his bedroom.
His own bedroom was pristine. Everything had a place. His apartment was high above the city, quiet behind thick windows, with a porter downstairs and enough space that he could disappear into it when he needed to and a constant noise of a baby monitor that played white noise.
This room was the opposite.
Clothes were scattered across the wooden floor, a discarded pair of underwear was half underneath the bed. There were used condoms on the floor beside the bedside table, something Yoongi deliberately looked away from almost immediately, his stomach was turning with anxiety. He closed his eyes.
“Tang.”
The thought hit him suddenly, his son. Yoongi’s heart skipped a beat. Tang was almost one. He should be at home, except he wasn’t. Yoongi had left tang with Namjoon and Jin when he felt the faint signs of an episode, tang would be safe with them, Yoongi knew that, He had arranged it at the end of the day, he had trusted them enough to leave his son in their care. Still, guilt immediately settled over his chest.
He reached for his phone, it wasn’t there on the bedside table. He could see that his trousers were on the floor, His shirt was faintly peaking out from underneath them and His shoes were nowhere in sight.
“Looking for this?”
Yoongi nearly jumped out of the bed, he didn’t realise that Jimin had been awake. The younger man was watching him through half-lidded eyes, his voice rough with sleep. Yoongi just stared at him. Jimin lifted a hand and pointed toward the other side of the room.
“Your phone.”
Jimin mumbled, It was plugged into a charger on a chest of drawers beside a lamp, Yoongi finally followed his gaze.
“Oh.”
His voice sounded tiny, Jimin gave him a sleepy smile.
“It’s on charge. It was dead when we got here I think.”
Yoongi nodded.
“Right.”
Silence, neither of them seemed to know what to say. Jimin eventually pushed himself upright, the blanket pooling at his waist, slightly exposing Yoongi, Jimin ran his hand over his face before looking around the room as he started to realise the state they had left it in, His eyebrows rose.
“Ugh.”
Jimin groaned, Yoongi immediately looked away.
“I’m sorry.”
Jimin blinked.
“For what?”
Yoongi didn’t answer, He couldn’t, His fingers had started rubbing anxiously over his chest again, trying to ease the uncomfortable pressure there as his throat started to tighten again, Jimin noticed and his expression changed.
“You okay?”
Jimin asked softly, Yoongi nodded automatically.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I’m just…”
He stopped.
He didn’t know what he was.Embarrassed?Confused? Ashamed? Hungover? Terrified? All of it seemed to exist simultaneously with eachother. Before Jimin could say anything else to ease the tension, small fast footsteps sounded outside the bedroom, Yoongi’s head snapped toward the door then a second later, it flew open, a little boy stood there clutching a stuffed dog against his chest.
“Jimin!”
Jimin’s eyes widened as he pulled the blanket higher over Yoongi.
“Bam!”
The boy grinned, stepping further into the dark room,
“Come play.”
Jimin looked down at himself, Then at the small child, then at Yoongi.
“Uh…”
Bam frowned, his doe eyes he inherited from his father staring at his ‘uncle’.
“Jimin?”
“Give me two seconds.”
Jimin immediately grabbed the nearest piece of clothing from the floor and wrapped it around his waist before climbing out of the bed before bam could see anything he shouldnt. However, Yoongi sat completely frozen, the little boy stared at him, Yoongi stared back. Neither spoke, Jimin gently guided Bam backwards and out of the doorway.
“Come on, buddy. Out.”
“But I want to play Jimin.”
“I know. Give me a minute.”
“Whos that in your bed?”
“Go to your appa bam”
Bam reluctantly shuffled backwards, still clutching the stuffed dog, Jimin gently closed the door. For a moment, there was silence again. Then Yoongi heard the little boy’s voice from outside.
“Jimin’s room is messy.”
Jimin shut his eyes, Yoongi almost laughed. Almost. Instead, a strange little breath escaped him, Jimin looked over.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
Another pause.
“That’s Bam,” Jimin said quietly. “He’s three, Yoongi just nodded, Jimin continued, “He’s Jungkook and Taehyung’s second. Yeontan’s the oldest. He’s 7.”
Yoongi glanced toward the closed door.
“And you live here?”
“For now.”
Jimin shrugged.
“It’s a shared house with Taehyung and Jungkook. I’m staying with them for a bit.”
Yoongi nodded slowly, Everything felt so surreal, A random bedroom, A random morning, A stranger who didn’t quite feel like a stranger anymore, his phone finally buzzed from across the room, Yoongi flinched, Jimin immediately passed it over to Yoongi who still hadn’t moved from the bed.
On it there were several notifications. Missed calls and Messages. Some from Namjoon. Some from Jin. And one from his manager. And few from Hoseok. Yoongi’s heart sank, He didn’t open any of them yet, he couldn’t, so he sat there staring at the screen, a picture of tang in his luxurious pram that was a present from Jin when he had been born. Jimin watched him quietly.
“You need to go?”
“Yeah.”
The answer came automatically, then Yoongi hesitated, He looked down at himself.
“Eventually.”
Jimin nodded.
“You can take your time.”
Yoongi looked at him. There was something strangely gentle about the way Jimin said it. Something gentle about the way Jimin started dressed pulling out clothes for Yoongi to change into. No judgement, No teasing, No questions. Just understanding. Yoongi looked away again, anxiously chewing on his thumb nail, he didn’t know what had happened last night, he didn’t know why he’d drunk so much, he didn’t know how he’d ended up here. But sitting in the wreckage of a stranger’s bedroom, listening to a little boy ask Jimin to come play outside the door, Yoongi suddenly realised one thing.
He needed to get home.
He needed to see Tang and he needed to figure out what the hell had happened to him for him to go drink so much and have sex multiple times in one night, so he hesitantly began typing to ‘Jin-hyung’, asking to be picked up. Jin would reply as soon as the message sent saying he is on his way.