black coffee | soonhoon

Ten

Chittaphrrr

Another day spent cooped up in his dark room, Jihoon can't help but feel pressurised by this new deal.

He'd been given two weeks to complete an entire song - something he's never done within three years. After sending in files of his incomplete original music, the company had signed him immediately. Pledis, he thinks they were called.

He lays his head in his hands and sighs. He hasn't slept for more than three hours straight for a while. But finishing this song is a huge thing for him.

The curtains over his windows are drawn shut, and have become stiff from the amount of time they've been like that.

When he opens them, his eyes feel like they're burning.

He stares back at the monitor in front of him, packed with lines and notes and squiggles that when joined together could make music. He feels like it's taunting him. He feels a mix of emotions in him, rising quickly to the surface as the screen jeers at him.

He yells, screaming so loud that his throat catches fire. His fists grip in his hair and tug viciously whilst his head falls to his desk. Jihoon feels the flames coursing through him and his restlessness jittering across his body.

His door bangs open, startling him out of his stupor. He looks up at his brother with wide eyes, receiving the same expression in return.

"What the hell happened?" Yoongi gasps, breathing heavily.

Jihoon stutters, "N-nothing... something just wasn't working- that's all."

With a roll of his eyes, Yoongi walks over, grabbing his little brother by the arm and dragging him from his room, against the protests from the younger.

"Hey! Yoongi, let go of me!"

"Nope," he stops when he's outside on the landing, and stares at Jihoon. He's squinting from the light and his hands are trembling.

"You need a break, Hoon. Go outside and go for a walk, or go get some crappy food that's gonna give you diabetes for all I care. Just for Christ's sake, do something." He sighs, nudging Jihoon towards the stairs.

"But hyung, the deadline-"

"I don't give a shit about the deadline. You're struggling, so go forget about it for a bit. Come back when you've calmed down, okay?"

Jihoon wants to deny it, but he knows he really shouldn't, "Fine."

Yoongi grins and ruffles his hair as he passes. Jihoon slumps to the front door, nearly tripping down the stairs, earning a laugh from upstairs. He scoffs and grabs his coat, wrapping it around himself and tugging at the door, rattling the door handle around before finally opening it and letting the cold air in.

It attacks his face like a shard of hot ice, his skin feels tingly and numb, unused to the harsh winter weather.

Taking in the final breath of warm air, Jihoon steps out of his house and closes the door, locking away the comfort of his room and the warmth that emitted from the constantly lit fireplace.

He starts off down the road, padding along like a child; he huddled against himself with his shoulders pushed forward and his head bowed.

Before he knows it, he's at the park- there's lots of families here, walking cute little dogs with fluffy coats and fancy leashes. They walk proudly as if to say 'Hey look at me! I'm the coolest dog around! My hoomans are the best!'

Jihoon smiles at the groups like these, put a part of him wishes that he could still be like that too, him and his brother with a happy family: a mother and a father to care for them and support them endlessly, no matter how badly they may fuck up. Someone to comfort the both of them when they couldn't quite comfort each other. His heart aches for it. Aches for it like his lungs ache for air and his ears crave the sweet sound of music.

But he knows it can also never happen. Not since they died. Jihoon still feels the weight of the guilt, every single day. It's always there, hammering into his chest with a force strong enough to knock him down to the dusty floor. The only thing holding him up is music. That's why he spends days cooped up in the confinements of his dim room, with headphones on and a constant beat drumming through his brain. For comfort.

He's never told anyone. Not even Yoongi can empathise with him. After all- Yoongi wasn't there.

Instead he lets it eat at him. The nightmares, the flashbacks, the uncontrollable flinching when a car drives past or he hears the blaring of a car horn a few streets over.

"Jihoon?"

He doesn't realise that he's been staring sullenly into the distance for who knows how long. When he hears the voice, he's snapped out his inattention. He spins on his heel, looking up to the person who had called his name.

"Oh, hey Gyu." He tries to add some sort of cheeriness back into his tone, but he guesses it failed when Mingyu's face remains very worried.

"Are you okay? You looked kinda sad... and lost."

"Yeah! I'm fine," Jihoon smiles painfully, hoping that it's enough to end the topic.

Mingyu of course isn't convinced, but he can also see that Jihoon has no intention of talking about it, so he leaves it be.

The smaller sighs, tucking his tiny pale hands into his fluffy pockets, "So, why're you out here?"

Mingyu crosses his arms to try and preserve heat, "I'm actually going to see Soonyoung, y'know the guy from the café? He's ill, I'm going to bully him for a bit." He lets out a laugh, and Jihoon can't help but chuckle along.

"What's wrong with him?"

"He's got the flu, pretty bad I think." Jihoon nods before Mingyu continues, "Anyway, whats going on between you two? It seemed like you wanted to rip each other's faces off when I took you. I didn't know you knew each other."

"It's nothing, I promise. We bumped into each other and he was just a bitch. That's it." The last sentence is final.

Mingyu accepts this, figuring that Soonyoung will spill the beans sooner or later. "Okay, well I should go. He's gonna be bitchy to me if I'm late," he chuckles.

Jihoon smiles, already drifting into his own world, "Yeah, okay. See you."

He watches Mingyu disappear slowly down the winding streets before Jihoon turns around again, wandering off down the path that leads through the middle of the park and past the trickling fountains. He wonders if everything could've been different and he wonders if anything will be different.