sexuality crisis

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Yoongi deeply sighed for the eighteenth time in the past half an hour. Well, not exactly. He stopped counting after he sat in Hoseok's car. If he's truly being honest with himself, he doesn't fucking know why he agreed to this stupid 'trip'. He's pretty impatient too, they've been sitting on this elegantly beautiful Mahindra Scorpio SUV for about sixty four minutes now(and counting). For about an hour and 4 minutes! Can you believe it?, that's probably what would the raven haired male would say. Boring eyes browse through the outside landscape, the sun is still there, but it's like it's almost saying goodbye, barely there anymore. He sighs once again, by now placing his head to his arm that's resting on the car window, closing his eyes as he let his ears be abused by the loud(he purposely set the volume high so that he can't hear any of his friend's bullshit) heavy beats that the song's producing- along with the crude words that makes him go to sleep.








It's been a week?, Or maybe two, since his friends have been planning this 'trip'. Sure they're his friends but he's not that 'interested' on doing these kind of things, he'll prefer to just sit on his poorly old leather chair, doing his usual work which is composing music-wandering his mind about his hardships in his twenty five years and taking all these together as an inspiration for his songs. That's what he do everyday. Working his ass off, surely he got his rent paid off right? That's only thing that matters. And his food too of course. His life was just like that. Just doing his thing in front of his computer, sleep long, eat what's whatever in his fridge, he only goes out when he really have to for example buying groceries or his needs. He works hard to pursue his dreams. To be a successful rapper, that's it. To prove everyone that he can be someone who can look up to.







He asked his parents when he was like, eight? Told them if he could be one someday. Too bad his parents weren't that enticed in what they call 'music'. In his middle school days, he never in his life had heard music after his grandfather died. His grandfather was the only one who understood him, he was too, pleased with music, he's a talented man with a lot of knowledge about how to be a professional musician. Yoongi wanted to be like him. It's just loud roaring of their own cars & the sound of their own voice that he always hears after he passed away.







Until he went to a city, when his father dropped him to Seoul to continue his college studies, he heard it again after nine years. his soul was like, reawakened again. Revived. And just like that- after he finished his collage- he started to make music, he wanted to make people feel what he felt. To change their minds about music, to tell them important messages through them. And through them we can all unite.






And here he is.




Wait,




Where was he again?







"Why are we here again?" Yoongi said indolently while rubbing his eyes from exhaustion. The red marks on his cheeks displayed how he certainly got a good, unbothered sleep. His friends got out of the car while grabbing their fairly heavy bags. The one with the black hair and navy blue hoodie went to him, hair bouncing in felicity. "Do you want to be roommates with me?" He softly said with his teeth darting out of his roseate stout lips. Yoongi, who's trying his best not to loiter his eyes to the lips of the said male, and who's trying his very best not to head trip to the said male's sheer tight pants, looked down on to his feet instead. He cursed himself for always being like this in front of Park Jimin. I mean who can blame him? It's fucking Park Jimin.

SEXUALITY CRISIS, myg+pjm.Where stories live. Discover now