wallflower | taekook

twenty two.

"Sometimes we want what
we want even if we know it's
going to kill to us."
— Donna Tartt

Jungkook POV

It was like an invasion into my mind that completely took over and drowned anything else out. My body back against the chair as the prettiest sounds attacked my ears and flowed effortlessly throughout. The smooth hip hop beats relaxing and shutting me out from the world as they warded off all the bad for a few minutes that I stayed plugged in.

That was until a wad of paper crumbled up had hit me straight in the forehead.

"Yoongi." I sighed, "Stop that."

I tugged out one of the headphones and turned down the volume on my phone, not even acknowledging the collection of crumbled paper sheets with discarded words and notes that had accumulated at my feet.

"Stop ignoring me then, and address me correctly you brat." the older boy shot back before spinning back around in his chair to face his studio desk.

My bottom lip stuck out in a subtle pout at the name, only reminding me of the him. "Why is everyone calling me a brat."

"Maybe because you are one?" Yoongi offered, earning a killing glare to the back of his head. "Who else calls you a brat anyways."

"Taehyung." I mumbled.

There was a noise from his side of the room, kind of like a cough that turned into some humming. "Right." was all he said.

Yoongi was a pro at many things, from what I've heard and seen for myself, evident from the fancy studio we were currently in upstairs from the club he owned. Except for right now where he seemed to be having trouble conveying what he wanted to make. "How does this sound?" the silver haired boy asked, rolling over to his keyboard and pressing on the keys.

The room filled with pleasant notes that seemed like they would be dancing elegantly if we were in a world that made them visible. Floating like fairies.

"It's a lot softer than what you usually do." I said. Which was true, but still not surprising. Because Yoongi himself was a whole contradiction, that whole cold exterior and intimidating presence was nothing more than an assumption by those not lucky enough to know him truly.

He was nodding now, fingers messing with the keys and I closed my eyes, instantly relaxing along with the notes that were interrupted by a frustrated stab at the keyboard and a grunt of disapproval. "Jungkook, I love you, but why the hell are you still here."

My teeth nibbled on the bottom of my lip and I shrugged, "Everyone's busy, I didn't want to go home by myself just yet."

The older boy was facing me now in his chair, fingers locked together and resting on his stomach. "You're actually a child." he chuckled, the smile on his face and his gums showing just the slightest was too cute and I couldn't even find myself upset over the mild insult.

"Have you talked to Jimin?"

"Everyday." Yoongi said, spinning back to face his desk and fiddle with some more knobs and keys of varying colors and purposes. "Why?"

"He's just been busy." I answered back even quicker than I thought I would, suddenly realizing I haven't spoke much to the blonde in a few days, let alone making sure he's getting better.

Yoongi was tapping his pen on the desk, index finger rubbing against his bottom lip. The older boy was obviously in thought, about what I had no clue, it could be new lyrics or any other possibility that he seemed to have the need to contemplate. "Do you want to go to this standup comedy, improve thing with me?" he had asked soon after. "I have two tickets."

To say I was surprised by the invitation would be a slight understatement, Yoongi barely did anything outside of his studio or club unless it was with Jimin. But I wasn't about to turn down an opportunity to not be alone.
"Sure, what time?"

"Now." the older stood up and collected his things, keys shoved in pocket and phone in hand, he peeked over at me from underneath that messy fringe, "Let's take a walk." 

"Wait I thought you had something to finish?"

"I need a break," Yoongi said, still walking to the studio door and pushing it open, "And I think you do too."

It was colder outside by this time, the sun almost already set all the way with only deep reds streaking across the sky being invaded by that dark shade of blue seeping into black. "Where are we going?" I asked, following my friend along the sidewalk towards wherever this improve thing was being held.

Yoongi was watching his lock screen being lit up with texts from someone who really wanted to get ahold of him, it only ended with him shutting off the phone entirely. "It's up this way, come on let's not be late."

I nodded slowly and tugged on the strings of my hoodie, the fabric closing a bit around my face. The streets here were unfortunately familiar, less city lights replaced with dim street ones that already had an eery glow to them on their own. My hands started to get clammy and shake a bit, only making me mentally curse at myself for being such a wimp. Nothing bad was going to happen.

"Here." Yoongi said, stopping by an opened door beneath a neon sign blinking 'open.'

The man at the front took the tickets from Yoongi and we stepped into the small building, dim lights with the only bright ones aimed at a small stage in the back. There were booths around the back and small tables set in the middle facing the stage. People were already ordering drinks and getting settled for the show. I just followed my friend to a booth in the corner and we both slid in.

A second later a woman came walking up, hair back and tits out. She had a pen and pad, seemingly ready to take our requests, "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Ouzo." I asked, smiling politely at the waitress. She nodded and scribbled on her pad.

I felt Yoongi staring at me before replying with whatever he wanted, it wasn't until we were alone again that he spoke up. "I thought you don't drink."

There was no shock that he asked that, it was expected from nearly anyone close enough to know I haven't consumed it in so long. I just shrugged and leaned back against the booth cushions, "Recently I'm able to."

"What does that even mean Jungkook." he asked, there was a hint of annoyance but sometimes that's just Yoongi.

The waitress came back with two glasses in her hands, she looked at me as she set them down and slid them to respective owners as of now, "Let me know if you need anything else."

I returned the smile and took the glass, cold against my palm and trying not to seem too eager. The liquid down my throat sent shivers down my spine and turned my veins to ice, the unfamiliar burn from long before had a subtle familiarity still interwoven within.

The burn of Yoongi's gaze on my face matched that of my throat, soon it numbed as the show started and the annoyance in words turned to genuine laughter. My hands stopped shaking and my mind became numb, the buzzing no longer heard as it got drowned out by something other than medication, something more comforting.

I tightened my grip on my newly refilled glass, lips still pulled into a subtle smile at the same waitress and I felt in control. Nothing seemed to be wrong and I felt no remorse for the way I've decided to make things go, because it was my decision. Sometimes it's okay to ask yourself what you want, do what you want when no one else seems to care enough to bother with it anyways.

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