(Hoseok POV)
A crash awakened me.
I jolted from my sleep, senses alert in the dark. I rubbed my eyes, reaching over to check the time on my phone.
4:43 AM
I had been sleeping on Yoongi's couch, and the sound seemed to be coming from his bedroom. For a second, I decided to go back to sleep, not wanting to intrude his privacy. After all, it wasn't my own apartment. Who knew what the older did in his own time?
"Whatever."
Pulling the blanket over myself again, I placed a hand under my cheek, slowly morphing back into a dreamless sleep.
Crash
Louder this time.
I grew cold, suddenly feeling cautious. It sounded like glass shattering.
Maybe he likes to shatter glass for fun?
The thought seemed skeptical, begging to be told it wasn't true.
I shuffled out of the blanket. My feet quickly found themselves in slippers, softly stumbling. My hands steadied themselves on the hallway's walls, leading to his bedroom. My throat felt dry, I couldn't raise my voice.
I stood in front of his closed bedroom door.
"Yoongi?" I whispered.
No reply.
I cleared my throat, hand raising to knock. "Are you okay?"
The silence was beginning to raise hairs on my arms.
I knocked once, twice, three times. But the door still did not open.
What if he slipped and fell unconscious?
I barged in.
"Yoon--"
I paused.
It was practically empty.
I rubbed my eyes again. Maybe the darkness was playing tricks on me.
But it wasn't; there really was no furniture anymore. The bed was gone, the books, the albums, even the paintings were gone.
And so was Yoongi.
So where did the sound come from? What about the sound of glass sh--
I heard a rustle.
My blood ran ice cold.
Slowly turning around, I heard the noise coming from the closet.
"Yoongi? A-are you in there?" My voice was barely noticeable even by my own ears.
I crossed the room shakily, noticing the spews of shattered glass pieces glistening in the moonlight. The curtains were gone too. But the moon wasn't.
My hand curled around the closet door's knob, biting my lip, I threw it open.
And there he was.
Sitting at the floor of the closet, lit cigarette clutched in his pale hand.
I bent down on my knees, hands still sweaty and cold. "Yoongi!" I tried to jolt him awake, and he slowly opened his eyes, meeting my frantic ones.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" I tried to raise my voice, trying to seem angry. But even I know that wasn't working very well. I was beyond scared and worried seeming him like this.
"Why are yo--"
"Close the door."
"What? Yoongi, li--"
