REDAMANCY

Thirty Four

Thirty Four
-
Nyctophilia
(n.) love of darkness or night,
finding relaxation or
comfort in darkness
-

Yoongi sat, his wrists aching terribly from the tight hold the handcuffs had on them.

He was worried. Was Jimin really ok with letting things go like this? Even if it didn't work out, how could he brush it off like that?

While Jimin was waiting for the others to arrive, Yoongi let his mind wander.

Jimin lived a nice childhood. He was lucky he never grew up with a dad like mine. Yoongi longed to remember only happy memories but those of verbal harassment and painful encounters were set too deep.

"No son of mine would pursue this career."

"Your brother was always destined for something great. Why couldn't you have followed him?"

Yoongi winced as he remembered the harsh pain of the punch delivered to his jaw, sending him against his closet door.

It wasn't even that bad of a dream- to produce music. Yoongi thought in bitterness. So why was I treated like some wild animal? Lots of kids want to make music. With all the idols we've got now here in Korea, why was my dream any different?

Surely his parents weren't that sensitive to his desire to make music? They listened to all sorts of music, with exception to hiphop and heavy metal, daily. Yoongi frowned as more memories filled his mind.

His laptop had died so he'd gone out into the study to use the family computer. He was browsing small apartments for sale. His mom walked in and found him.

"You can't leave, we won't let you!" She'd screamed. "You disgrace!"

They didn't want me to leave? Yoongi shook his head, trying to clear away the odd encounter. Wasn't I the one getting shunned? Wouldn't they have liked it if I'd left?

He barely acknowledged as Jimin's mom and friends came running into the station. His thoughts consumed him completely, their hold strong.

His memory of the final beating he'd received held him by the throat, just as his father had that night.

Subconsciously Yoongi touched the spot where he'd gotten a dark bruise -now faded- from it.

Doesn't matter if it wasn't to choke me. He recalled. My own father held me by the throat just to make his point. A monster.

Suddenly he felt an odd sense of calm as he remembered another night from his days in high school.

It was his at-the-time girlfriend who he'd invited over. Yes, his parents had gone out for the night, and his brother was immersed in cram school and would probably go out to drink after. Yoongi almost cringed at the memory. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt any attraction to a girl.

"No one's home, eh?" She asked, running her fingers along the smooth wood of the dinner table.

At the time, Yoongi had smiled cockily at her but this time, he shivered in his seat, his handcuffs making a soft *clink* sound. The previous night he'd been pushed roughly against the edge by his father, sustaining a cut to the side of his wrist from it.

I was a moron. Yoongi thought. I handled things by rebelling. Now I'm left with nothing but the trauma.

A fool. Thats all he was. A fool with the audacity to consider loving someone as loved and delicate as Jimin. Someone with deep emotions but a hard exterior could never pair well with someone who needed support. Yoongi couldn't even support himself, how could he even conceive of supporting Jimin?