a ticket to the sun ∙ myg ✓

9 ↝ honeysuckle sunday

THREE YEARS LATER

Yoongi is dying. An overdramatic statement, but he would not be surprised if it were the honest truth.

An earthquake is taking place in his head. Sandpaper has replaced the surface of his tongue. Sunlight that drips between the drapes like honey feels akin to daggers against his squinting eyelids, rather than drizzling sweetness. Draped across his bare stomach is an arm that holds no familiarity. Yoongi has little to no recollection of what happened after he lost a game of beer pong with Seokjin last night. Cue internal damnation.

When he subtly shifts against the foreign mattress, the aroma of honeysuckle and vanilla arises from the lithe body laying facedown beside him. Bird nest hair conceals her make-up smudged face. A shiver that is neither unpleasant nor welcoming irritates his skin. He wonders if that is the reason why he ended up going home with her last night. The perfume of his nightmares.

"Morning," croaks from beneath the midnight fluff, and Yoongi stills in his motion of exiting the situation. He fixes his eyes on the girl, vaguely concerned that she thinks this might have been more than what he was intending. It would not be the first time.

"You don't mind me heading out, right? Got things to do." Yoongi half-smirks. He spots his shirt draped over her desk chair and decidedly makes a beeline for it, stumbling when his hangover decides to drag his head by the nails down to Hell. "That was a lie. Jus' hate awkward morning after shit."

Yoongi almost gets down onto his knees to praise whoever is watching him from above when he discovers his underwear tucked nicely into the crotch of his jeans. He slips the both of them on, and then grabs his shoes.

"You and me alike," the agreement is followed by a chuckle, which quickly dissolves into coughing. It seems like her night was just as rough as his own. Her heaving lungs sound like cigarettes.

"Well, it was nice fucking with you," Yoongi says as a way of goodbye, and the girl, once her partial asphyxiation has calmed, half-heartedly lifts her hand in a wave. She does not bother to remove her face from the pillow and reveal her identity. He wonders if she even remembers who he is, too.

Thankfully, no other housemates are spotted on his Walk of Shame out of her room. All of them must either be still in bed, or in the same situation as he, but elsewhere. Yoongi, in a true streak of unbelievable luck in such an unlucky world, spots his cell phone upon the kitchen counter. Lighting up the screen, he discovers four missed calls from Seokjin, all sent in the earliest hours of the morning. There is a single message from Hoseok, received eight minutes ago.

Received [11:12AM]: Jung Hoseok

need me to come save u from some persistent hoe, damsel in distress?

Delivered [11:20AM]: Jung Hoseok

eat my ass

Received [11:21AM]: Jung Hoseok

oh baby don't tempt me

shake shack on 5th?

This is not an unusual morning for Yoongi. Truly, it is his every single Saturday and Sunday (sometimes Thursdays, as well) since branching out and making friends within his Engineering major.