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jeongguk wishes he would notice him. days have passed. weeks have too. he’s worrying. he knows the signs. not so long ago, he went through it all himself. it still feels like it happened yesterday and he’s sure yoongi must feel this way, too.
it’s a friday. usually, yoongi comes home early on fridays. he takes longer now. it’s like he doesn’t want to be at home anymore. like he can’t breathe there now. jeongguk wonders if it really feels that suffocating for the elder.
this particular friday, he watches him drop his keys in the handmade bowl placed on the table next to the door. he sees him stare at the bowl for a while. jeongguk made it in a pottery class he got as a birthday present.
(jeongguk gave it to yoongi as their first anniversary present.)
yoongi stares at it, then there are tears. his face distorts, crumbles. his figurative mask falls to the ground and shatters into a million pieces.
jeongguk thinks that must be how yoongi’s heart feels right now.
he watches the elder lean onto the door before his legs give out. slowly, he slides to the ground. defeated. broken.
“please don’t cry anymore,” he mumbles. yoongi can’t hear him.
jeongguk has never seen yoongi like this before, and he feels bad about it. he shouldn’t be watching. his raw display of emotion feels cold in the pit of the younger’s stomach. he’s crying mutely, yet his face looks like it’s stuck in a silent cry. there is so much pain written on his face as his shoulders shake. he’s gripping his legs tightly, mimicking a fetal position. he looks so small this way, so fragile and hurt.
jeongguk understands.
he watches as yoongi runs out of tears, as his eyes become glazed and empty. something inside of him is missing, and it tears him apart from the inside out.
he stands up, slowly, even though his legs look like they’re giving out. he doesn’t bother wiping away his tears. he walks into the kitchen, fills the kettle with water. he opens a cupboard and takes out a cup, but he doesn’t do anything other than staring at it. it’s his cup. he puts it away.
he washes the other cup in the sink, then dries it off, and sorts through the stray bags of tea. he moves mechanically, without much thought, lost in his head. jeongguk wishes he could pull him out of there, help him in any way.
tell him he’s sorry.
he really is.
yoongi stares out of the window. the tea in his hand is steaming hot, but even as it cools down, he doesn’t move to drink it. he watches everyone move along, sees the world go on unbothered.
he feels the betrayal that’s written on yoongi’s face, too.
jeongguk knows the fluffy blanket smells like him. he sees how yoongi’s tears leave dark spots on the fabric as he wraps it around himself.
if he could, jeongguk would hold his hand.
he can’t.
=
yoongi moves through the apartment like it’s not his. he’s careful with what he’s touching, as if everything he touches is going to fall apart. he keeps his eyes away from photos and drawers, like he fears he’s intruding.
dust collects on the picture frames and the sheets on one side of the bed don’t change anymore. he buys new shampoo and doesn’t touch the bottle that’s already in the shower. there is banana milk going bad in the fridge, and a bag with school books and pens and duffle with workout gear placed in the living room. yoongi moves around it all, flinches at any involuntary touch.
=
it’s a sunday when their friends come to visit. he knows yoongi hasn’t seen them in a while, and neither has jeongguk. with a bitter taste in his mouth, he wishes they moved on.
he doesn’t know how many tears he can bear seeing. he wishes they weren’t still so hung up. he wishes they could find joy in life once again. he joy jeongguk can’t experience himself anymore.
jeongguk can see right past yoongi’s mask. fake it til you make it. if only everything could be this easy in life.
they are all in the living room. they act as though the emptiness, the void, didn’t exist anymore. it’s a tragedy unfolding.
“are you okay?” jimin asks.
yoongi answers after what feels like a lifetime. “no.”
it’s the only honest word leaving his mouth, that afternoon. jeongguk knows.
he hates how yoongi keeps his things untouched. he hates how unwilling he is to find life again. his favourite snacks are still hidden away, untouched until namjoon takes out a pack of pocky that day. yoongi stared at him, hurt, with resignation pooling in his eyes.
namjoon took it for what it was. not anger at him, or at yoongi himself. not even anger at jeongguk.
it was pain.
=
reality has a way of catching up with yoongi when he tries to sleep. the puffiness and lack of sleep never leave his face anymore, and jeongguk desperately wishes to see him glowing again. to see him healthy, happy, and not at odds with himself. he still laughs, and smiles, but it isn’t genuine. it’s empty.
it’s as empty as the other side of the bed, which doesn’t grow warm anymore. at least yoongi doesn’t sleep on the couch anymore. it took him a week to set foot into the bedroom again. a week in which he neither changed nor showered, and barely even existed.
now he just curls up in a small ball, and stares at the wall until his alarm goes off. sometimes, though, on good days, he even dozes off a little. those are days that make jeongguk happy.
there is a deep sadness hanging onto yoongi’s bones that keeps dragging him down. it must be heavy, considering the way it makes his shoulders sag.
he still notices how yoongi is growing smaller every day. not just in his frame, but also in the way he holds himself. he’s tired on such a deep level it’s reflected in any way he exists.
he doesn’t speak loudly, he walks slowly, he barely moves beyond the necessary.
life is walking past him now.
“i’m so sorry,” jeongguk whispers when yoongi is staring holes into the dark again. “i wish i had the chance to say goodbye.”
=
one day, yoongi picks up jeongguk’s favourite book. the one the younger always wanted him to read. constantly, jeongguk felt bad about all of the things he couldn’t tell his hyung. about all the things left unsaid. when he sees him open that book, he notices a heavy feeling in his gut. but––he thinks it’s good.
the elder stays up all night, reading. jeongguk wants to yell at him, tell him to finally go to sleep, but everything’s changed now.
the next day, yoongi starts reading the book once more.
=
he thinks yoongi’s getting better. it makes him so happy––in such a pure, relieved way.
he doesn’t think he can bear yoongi’s pain any longer. “please don’t be sad anymore,” he whispers in yoongi’s ear at night, even though he’s so sure the elder can’t hear him.
he hopes he can feel him instead.
“i’m waiting for you.”