Yoongi is in the library.
He isn't sure why he decided to venture inside the quiet and large building. He's surprised when the old lady at the front smiles at him.
Not narrowing her eyes at him in distrust when she sees the ripped skinny jeans with the black hoodie and the piercings that decorate his ears.
He wishes people would smile at him more like that.
Taehyung is not allowed to see him, his mother forbidding the younger child from ever visiting or even seeing the elder.
She tells him that the boy only brings trouble and hurts those around him.
Yoongi thinks that she says that because he knows what goes on in Taehyung's house, thinks that he'll do the exact same thing to Taehyung.
A lie, because Yoongi would kill for Taehyung.
Yoongi finds an empty table in one of the dark corners that is hidden from view. It's cloudy outside, and even though winter is over he can still feel its whisper lingering in the air.
For some unknown reason Yoongi feels safe and warm. Something he's only felt when he's high or when Taehyung is nearby.
Being surrounded by books that tell the stories of men and women who make the effort to survive or how a couple fell in love despite the distraught that it would create to those around them.
Yoongi picks a random book, not even looking at the cover or the title. Just grabs it and sits down, he's lost and the words are just black smears to him, but he keeps reading either way.
It's half way into the book that Yoongi starts to think of his and Taehyung's relationship.
They are not boyfriends. They are not friends either. Yoongi thinks that their just two beings who love each other.
Is their love forbidden? Will it hurt and create a monstrosity that will brutally end in tragedy?
Yoongi can't say anything about it, just sit the book down and leave the library in a hurry.
He makes quick work of his joint, shaking in anxiety because the yelling is getting stronger, his steps are heavier, his breathing uneven.
Yoongi hates this feeling. But he loves it too. Gets off on it at times, enjoys the moment for too little or too long.
He thinks that hating and loving something is okay, because in the end they're both the same thing.
Right?
He takes in a puff of the drug, eliciting in the way that his body jerks and he can feel other than this feeling of doom.
The sky is filled with too many stars tonight, shining their weak light since their companion, the moon, is hiding behind the thick black of space.
A violin breaks its cords.
Another star explodes.
