Guns and Roses | Yoonmin

seventeen

Yoongi sits on his bed, the sheets slightly tousled underneath his body. The patio door is slid open, allowing for the fresh air to seep into the dimly lit room. Only the two side lamps are on, allowing for some light but not too much at the late hour. Worry weaves its way through Yoongi's fingertips as he hovers his thumb over his phone screen. More specifically, the keyboard that's open underneath his messages with Jimin. Close to an hour had passed since Yoongi left the pool, expecting Jimin to be there a few minutes after he arrived. But he never showed. He was tempted to call, text, voice message—but maybe he just fell asleep? Or maybe something happened to. . .Hoseok. "Maybe I'm worrying for nothing." He whispers to himself, falling back onto his pillow. His phone falls out of his hand, somewhere on the same bed he was tempted to just fall asleep in here and now. But his eyes couldn't look away from the closed door. A breeze flows into the room, lightly blowing Yoongi's bangs that fall over his fixated eyes. "Or maybe I'm worried and for a good reason." He sighs, groaning frustratedly. "Or maybe I'm just confusing myself and also speaking to myself because I'm feeling indescribably, alone." If only there was a text, or a call, then there wouldn't be worry at all. Yoongi's phone vibrates against the blankets, sending him flying for it from the other side of the bed. The text is from Jimin, unexpectedly. But it isn't words, or a recorded message or video, it's just a space. No words in the blue speech bubble, but emptiness. That was it. Yoongi needed to see if Jimin was okay.

The hallway to Jimin and Hoseok's room is long and drafty, in a way. Yoongi's footsteps tap against the floor, despite how quiet he's trying to be at the late hour. The silence makes him uneasy, and as he nears his friends' hotel room the worry slowly fills his body like it once did a few minutes ago. Yoongi stands in front of the door, his breath hitched due to stress. He brings his knuckle to the door, waiting for a second or two before knocking. It's silent inside, as far as Yoongi can tell. There's no sobbing filling the hallway, or anything really. He hesitantly pulls his hand away, realizing just how late it is. It was past midnight, and long after anyone smart would be awake. Which included Jimin, and Hoseok—right? The text didn't even have any words. It was just a space. Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, a sigh escapes his lips. "Jimin please be okay." He whispers to himself while pivoting his heel towards his hotel room a level down.

The next morning arrives, a light breeze flows into Yoongi's hotel room from the open patio door. He opens his eyes begrudgingly, squinting as the sun hits his face. "Fuck." He mumbles to himself, reaching for his phone on the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed. The time reads, 8:56 am, and suddenly Yoongi is wishing he didn't leave the curtain, or sliding door open at all. He couldn't sleep after visiting Jimin's room, and when he finally did catch a few z's it was around six in the morning. Something about the silence prior, was unsettling. Yoongi searches through his notifications, eyes trailing words that don't make much sense this early in the morning. A few messages from his coworkers spot his attention, as well as a few thrown in there from Seokjin.

SJ: Hey Yoongles

SJ: Dont ask, Jeongguk dared me to call you that

SJ: something about that being his nickname for you i don't know

SJ: Anyways I know it's early :) but :) we're all headed down to the pool

2 minutes later.

SJ: And Jimin is going too!

What was that supposed to be? Bait? Because it was certainly working. A driving force in getting Yoongi out of bed, and changed into swim trunks and a swim shirt. He slides his feet into a pair of flip flops, and heads out the door. One phone in hand, and his bag of pool essentials in the other, he begins walking towards the nearest elevators, avoiding the other tourists as best he can. The elevator walls are covered in reflective glass, with black accents on the corners and behind the panel of buttons. The stranger standing next to him is occupied by their phone, lost in the world of some type of social media. Yoongi sighs, and looks up at the countdown. Floor after floor. The person next to him coughs, and musters out scrambled letters that create an apology, before going back to their own business. Yoongi looks forward at his own reflection at this point, not bothering with the depleting numbers anymore.