Young and Free | BTS [√]

ni ju ichi

Dreams were becoming elusive every day and sleep was out of reach. Yoongi was seated on his bed at an ungodly hour, close to midnight, he assumed. The room was dark but everything was visible for the shower of the streetlight outside pouring in through the window. Jimin probably had forgotten to draw the curtains.

Hitherto, Yoongi had come back to the dorm earlier than usual. The weather was cold, temperature now reaching where it would storm sprinkles of snow soon, albeit that was not the case why he had left soon. Yoongi had an assignment due tomorrow and he needed at least two hours to finish it.

Time had drifted deeper into the night and Yoongi was nowhere near done. In fact, he hadn't even touched his laptop since he got home more than two hours ago. Maybe because he wanted to jot down a few ideas first so that his notebook was resting on his lap, a pen limply hanging between his index and thumb.

Maybe, that was the case, though, Yoongi could scarcely remember. Time was pacing a bit faster today or so it seemed. Yoongi was exhausted beyond point but he found himself still staring at the distance. Maybe he was looking at the radiant stickers on the ceiling, or the silhouette of the fluorescent lamp outside, he couldn't tell.

The confined space was warm with the heater on but Yoongi felt cold, he didn't try to elude it either way. He embraced it with his back leaning on the wall behind him, everything felt numbed, barren and desolated.

It was astonishing how his brain wasn't producing any thoughts. It was static, dull like Pluto who had perished long ago and now was nothing but a dead planet in the vast sky.

At least, its name remained. Would Yoongi's?

The freezing night was stagnant around him and he fell into the lethargy, a state of apathy and felt as if he was an indolent character. What if it ended like this, right now? Would that be so bad?

Because Yoongi had been skating on a layer of thin ice that was so frail and could barely hold on, and he had been running on it alone for so long, so damn long that his shoes were now torn and the ice made his haggard feet bleed. He could no longer care if the layer crumpled under his burdensome weight.

He could plummet into the oblivion and remain as a perished planet, which did not seem like such a bad idea.

His heart felt stale, finally surrendering.

A vice grip was around his throat, a lump forming in his esophagus.

Yoongi did not think he would cry, he could not remember the last time he did, for his eyes had been so jaded and sleep deprived over the years he wondered if his tear ducts had run dry.

That's why Yoongi could not believe his own ears when he uttered a choked up sob that came from deep within the pit of his stomach.

He straightened up, fingers curling around the pen in his hand. Rapidly breathing he realized his vision was getting bleary, no longer could he focus anywhere in the blur.