Chapter Text
Nights were the worst. No matter how tired he was, how few sleep he’d gotten over the days, he always stayed awake. It wasn’t always the same thoughts going through his mind – one moment it was the loneliness he felt, even when he was together with the others, other times it was him feeling like a burden to everyone, or him wondering if he’d ever be enough.
Seokjin, being the mother hen and the first to be up, was always asleep before Yoongi was. He knew this from experience. He could tell from his even breathing that didn’t even change when Yoongi was getting up from the bed.
Some nights were worse than others. Sometimes spending the night in his studio, working on some track and pouring his heart out in lyrics that might never see the daylight, worked to soothe his worries. He’d always end up asleep on his desk on those days, poorly rested and with a painful ache in his back, but with no nightmares to speak of. Sometimes, on nights like that, he’d light up a cigarette and forget himself – only focusing on the slight burn of the smoke in his throat and blowing it out.
Other nights he could barely hold back the tears, burning away in his eyes. He prided himself on his ability to keep his cool. He rarely showed how he was feeling, especially not that openly, but on those nights it was as if he couldn’t hold back at all anymore. Those were the nights where he felt like screaming until his throat was raw. The nights where his tears fell and he felt awful, worthless, the opposite of the confidence he liked to exude normally.
Those were the nights his wrists itched and he took it upon himself to work out his problems in a non-helpful manner. He knew this. He wasn’t an idiot, after all, he knew very well that cutting wouldn’t solve his problems. But it helped him deal with them another day. And after that another one. That’s how he had managed to survive so far without breaking down, how he had managed to keep himself going without any of the others noticing.
It wasn’t unusual for him to spend an hour in the bathroom, sitting on the ground, watching droplets of blood until it congealed, only to add another cut to them. Nevertheless, he was careful. His wrists weren’t full of them because he’d never be able to hide that, neither were his thighs or his stomach – those might not be in sight of the general public, but how long would it take one of the others to notice then? It wasn’t like they always undressed in front of each other, but sharing rooms meant that it was an unavoidable part of life sometimes.
He did it subtly. A cut on his inner thigh, one near his hipbones, one on his wrist thin enough to be hidden by one bracelet. Sometimes when he had several rough nights in one go, he cut an older wound open again to avoid creating a scattering of scars. That his wounds healed horribly wasn’t of any matter to him.
No one would notice. No one did notice. Even when he couldn’t stand anything anymore and wrote a long fan café post talking about his break and how he felt he should’ve handled everything, the members didn’t think anything was off. They told him that he couldn’t have done anything and that he should cheer up because they needed him to be healthy, but none of them thought there might be an underlying problem.
Yoongi was slightly proud of himself for it; it meant his acting was good enough to fool the bunch of them. Another part of him, the part that kept him awake at night wondering and worrying, whispered that they didn’t care enough to notice.
It was evening. Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook were watching some drama on the screen. Yoongi couldn’t tell which one it was, but he could tell one of the story lines was about two guys coming to terms that they had fallen in love with each other – Yoongi was curious, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at their reactions. He was afraid of what he’d see.
He remembered the reactions when Hoya played a gay character. The backlash from netizens was astonishing. He remembered how bad he had felt for weeks afterwards. Without noticing, he had spent the last few minutes idly watching the screen while lost in his thoughts.
“Want to watch with us, hyung?” Taehyung asked, leaning behind Jimin to get a better look at Yoongi.
Yoongi shook his head. “One of those guys looked familiar to me but I couldn’t tell who he was, that’s all.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie. He had wondered at one point who one of the actors was, but unlike how he had explained things, he had recognized him as Cross Gene’s Takuya within seconds. The maknae-line told him the answer in sync, to which he nodded.
He didn’t see the look Namjoon gave him.
Without a doubt, one of his best guarded secrets was his sexuality. Being an idol meant that they were essentially asexual – dating was prohibited. They had too much to lose. That didn’t mean they didn’t talk about dating, nor did it mean all of them were virgins (Yoongi wasn’t, for one, and he had a feeling Seokjin wasn’t either), but it did mean that there were less chances of getting found out. Yoongi could respond “Doesn’t matter what I think, it’s not like we can date now anyway” and no one would see it as a weird reply.
But he had no idea how any of them thought about homosexuality. He had never asked, nor had it ever really come up. He wanted to think that none of them cared much about it – but he wouldn’t be the first person to think so when coming out only to be proven otherwise.
A part of him wished he knew SHINee’s Jonghyun better, considering he was one of the only idols he knew who openly approved of sexual minorities. While they had met during comebacks and had said their hello’s and congratulations’ to each other, they didn’t know each other nearly well enough for an emotional talk like that.
And Yoongi knew no one else with whom he could discuss a topic like that. Sometimes when he and Seokjin were in their room alone, he wanted to bring up the topic – Jin would always be there for them, he thought, but he couldn’t be sure of that, not really. So he never did.
This night is one of the worst he’s had in a while. He’s turning around, unable to fall asleep no matter what he does. When he looks at his clock, he sees it’s barely past 2 am. The number stares back at him, red and clear.
Red.
It’s one of those nights again, for sure. Yoongi goes straight to the bathroom and closes the door behind him. He doesn’t lock it – he doesn’t expect anyone to enter and if someone did come, it’d look suspicious. Plus, he should be able to hear them come. Although that hasn’t happened before so he doesn’t feel the need to worry.
He pulls down his boxers – he’s not wearing anything else – and tracks the razor across his skin slowly. In the mirror he sees drops of blood slide down. It’s not enough. He has gotten himself worked up about everything and one measly cut isn’t doing it for him. He feels as horrible as he did before. He undoes the thick leather bracelet on his left wrist and cuts again, the same place as one of his previous scars.
Not enough. He cuts right below it, basically creating one bigger cut. Another one below it. He watches the blood trickle down, even sits down on the floor. It feels relaxing and stressing at the same time. He feels his heart beat in his chest, hammering away against his ribcage, but at the same time his mind has been emptied. He breathes out. It’s almost enough.
He puts away the razor. He can’t go overboard, as much as he wants to sometimes. There are days when he wants to get it over with, when all he wants to do is cut and cut and cut until there’s nothing else left. He can’t. He knows he can’t. It’s not a good idea – he does have thoughts of killing himself (“suicidal” sounds too harsh, even in his mind, too real), but he doesn’t act on them. He won’t.
Instead he gets up, puts his bracelet back on, and grabs one of his long coats from his wardrobe. He doesn’t bother dressing. It’ll be cold outside but he knows he doesn’t mind. He grabs a pair of shoes and slips them on before sneaking out.
He has already done one thing to hurt himself. What’s one more? He thinks as he grabs his packet of cigarettes from his pocket. There are still a few left in there, not enough to last him long, but enough for the night – he makes a mental reminder to buy new ones soon. When he lights it up, it’s almost a continuation of his ritual in the bathroom. He feels his worries seep out.
“Hyung?”
Shit, Yoongi puts his hand behind his back. He’d drop it, but that would be too obvious. Hoseok has come out of their building, staring at him in confusion. He looks up and down, sees Yoongi’s bare legs and shocked expression, sees how he doesn’t even seems to be wearing a T-shirt. He sees the smoke above Yoongi’s head dissipating slowly.
“Hoseok, what are you doing up? It’s three in the morning,” Yoongi says, trying to sound the part of the reproaching elder.
Hoseok tilts his head. He’s wearing slippers and his pajamas, not anywhere near dressed enough to go outside either. Yoongi wants to give him his coat but he’s still holding his cigarette behind his back (and he’s mostly naked as well). “I heard you go outside, hyung. Are you… smoking?”
Hobi sounds like he’s not quite sure about his comment, although he knows what he saw. He had followed Yoongi almost immediately when he heard him, he had seen the pack of cigarettes, and he had seen Yoongi lit one up. Maybe it’s his surprise at seeing Yoongi of all people smoke, or maybe it’s his sleepiness catching up on him.
“I…” Yoongi pauses. He has no idea what Hoseok saw. He could lie, but if he stepped closer, Hoseok would smell it immediately. He couldn’t hide at all. “Yeah, I was smoking.”
Hoseok hums in response. “You can continue, hyung, I- I don’t know why you are doing this but…”
He trailed off and looked at Yoongi almost expectantly. Yoongi put his cigarette back to his lips and took a deep draw. Now that it was out in the open, he really had no excuses left. Hoseok hadn’t moved, but he was rubbing at his arms, trying to get rid of the cold.
“Go back inside, Hoseok,” Yoongi says, softly, almost tender. He doesn’t know whether it’s having one of his secrets be in the open and not being judged for it or being able to smoke, but he’s feeling better, less like he’s about to burst out in tears at any time.
“I’ll stay… When did you start smoking?”
Yoongi does what he wouldn’t have done otherwise. He doesn’t even know why he does it, but he steps towards Hoseok and holds open his coat. He’s barely clothed underneath (although they’ve lived together for years and they’ve all seen each other in states of undress before), he’s not the type for physical contact either. It would be more like him to do nothing, he thinks. Hoseok stays silent. Maybe he’s too surprised to speak up, but he moves closer and steps into Yoongi’s embrace.
If someone would have seen them, it would have looked like a scene from some drama show. Hoseok had loosely draped his arms around Yoongi, not sure how much he could touch his hyung – it usually didn’t take much for Yoongi to shy away from touches like that. Yoongi lets him do; he neither pulls him closer nor shoves him away.
“It’s been a few years,” Yoongi answers. He can’t remember when he started either. He had smoked a couple here and there when he was still rapping underground. Back then it was a social thing – he did it because some of his fellow rappers did, not because he liked it or needed it. That was different now.
Hoseok nods and shivers. When Yoongi takes another drag, he feels him breathe in. To his touch, Yoongi’s body is soft and warm, and it smells of whatever shower gel he uses. It’s a familiar smell (Yoongi likes sticking to what he’s used to). There’s a slight hint of smoke, but it’s faint.
Yoongi resists the urge to shiver as well. He feels Hoseok’s arms around him. It’s an awkward embrace, his hands barely touch his skin, but maybe those kind of light touches are even worse. It’s been a while since Yoongi has been so intimate with anyone. Jimin and Taehyung hug him occasionally, but that’s always quick, and they’re never unclothed. He feels vulnerable. Next time, he should put on some clothes.
“I know you don’t like talking, but you can come to me if you have problems, hyung. I won’t tell the others either. You can trust me.”
Yoongi says nothing and stomps out his cigarette. He puts his hand on Hoseok’s neck and pulls him closer. It goes unsaid, but Hoseok is sure this is Yoongi’s way of saying thanks.
Neither of them says anything when they head back inside.
Yoongi’s wrists don’t itch again that night. He doesn’t even remember the wounds until he takes a shower the next morning.
The triplets (they might as well be with how they never leave each other’s sides) are watching the same drama the next night. This time, Yoongi watches their faces when the gay couple appears. It’s hard to tell from their faces, but he’s content when he doesn’t see any disgust.
He remembers how his parents reacted. He had always told everyone they didn’t accept his dream of becoming an artist, how they didn’t see rapping (or composing) as a viable career, how they wished for him to get a degree first before experimenting with anything, but in fact they hadn’t really cared about that.
Sure, they did tell him that a degree was the better choice, but they had also told him that if anything, he could always get a degree later when he failed (in their eyes, it wouldn’t take long for him to realize that he had made a mistake).
In reality, hell broke loose when he told his mother that he preferred boys. He can still remember it. His mother wasn’t the most affectionate woman or even the most supportive, but he had always thought that she’d be alright with his sexuality. He thought that she might need some time. He didn’t expect her to burst into tears and tell him how proud she was either.
Her reaction was the complete opposite of that. The moment the words left his mouth her face had scrunched up in disgust. He can’t remember her exact words – most of the events that day are a blurry mess in his mind – but her face is one that never left his memory. It would appear every time he tried to rationalize his sexuality. Every time he thought it was okay for him to be gay, how there was nothing wrong with it, how some people were simply closeminded, he remembered how his own mother had reacted.
And with her came his father, who had hit him across the face and told him that he should either find a girl, or leave the house if he expected to be “like that”. Yoongi had never asked for an explanation on what he meant exactly, but he could make an educated guess.
What made it so horrible wasn’t that he got a homophobic reaction. What made it horrible was that the homophobic reaction came from them.
A part of him wonders how they’d react if he blurted out “I’m gay” right now. The thought makes him realize he’s been staring for too long while lost in thoughts.
“Hyung?” Jimin asks. Today, Namjoon is sitting with the three of them on the couch, and Yoongi can see the expression on his face, although he can’t read it.
“Where’s Hoseok?” he asks eventually, wanting to get away from Namjoon’s questioning stare and the maknaes’ wondering looks.
“He should be in the dance studio, I think he was preparing a new choreography,” Jimin answers.
He grabs his coat and leaves without saying anything, wondering if Namjoon had found out something, if he had known something Yoongi wasn’t ready to tell. If so, that would make two of his secrets in two days. How had he been able to keep everything stowed away if it was going to come to light this quickly now?
Don’t worry too much, you are Daegu’s Suga, he might not know at all.
Hoseok is surprised to see Yoongi appear. He smells of smoke and he can’t help but be happy that Yoongi isn’t hiding anything from his anymore.
That happiness is short-lived when he sees Yoongi’s face. He looks like he’s scared. “Yoongi-hyu-“
“Would you hate me if I told you I was gay?”
Something clicks in Hoseok’s brain. The smoking, his aversion to physical contact, the way he avoided talking about his parents… There was something worse behind it after all. Hoseok realizes that his silence is making things worse. It’s the last thing someone in Yoongi’s position would want, after all.
“I’d never hate you, hyung, definitely not for something like this.”
Hoseok doesn’t know how he should behave himself right now, he doesn’t know what he should do to make Yoongi feel better, so he does the only thing he knows to do. He comes closer and hugs Yoongi, closer than the awkward embrace of the night before. Yoongi’s head is on his shoulder and he can hear him sobbing.
“Shh, everything will be alright, I’ll always be on your side.”
Yoongi knows he’ll feel embarrassed in a few minutes, but for now, all he needs is Hoseok’s embrace. He doesn’t need to think about Namjoon’s face, about how his whole world could go tumbling down in seconds if he wasn’t careful. He doesn’t even think about how Hoseok knows more about him than he should know – how he knows about the smoking, his sexuality, how he has seen him break down completely.
Hoseok doesn’t know what’s going on in Yoongi’s mind right now, but he doesn’t have any of the thoughts Yoongi is worried about. All he can think of is how to make Yoongi feel better now. He wonders what else he missed. How many times has Yoongi stayed awake feeling terrible because of this? How often has he felt like he was worth less because of this?
Yoongi feels like he’s drowning and Hoseok is the only thing that stops him from sinking all the way.
“Do you want to… have a smoke, or something?” Hoseok feels hesitant about asking. They’re sitting down on the floor of the studio, Yoongi’s head is leaning against his shoulder. They haven’t said anything to each other in a while. He’s never been in a situation like this before – Seokjin or Jimin might know what to do, but he’s not going to betray the trust he’d gotten.
Yoongi shakes his head. “Don’t have any.”
Even if he had any, he doesn’t feel like he needs any like he usually does. There’s something calming about knowing Hoseok is on his side. Hoseok knows things about him no one else does and still cares.
Yoongi doesn’t tell him anything else. Hobi feels like he knows a lot and nothing all at once. The urge to ask what Yoongi is feeling wells up; he knows there’s more going on. People don’t just break down that easily. Especially not Yoongi – Yoongi wouldn’t have come to him like this if he didn’t feel like there was no other way out.
He asks, although with the lack of response, he might not have.
Yoongi sighs. “Things aren’t easy for me right now, Hoseok. I’m not sure if they’ve ever been. I can’t sleep.” Softer, almost a whisper: “It feels like I have nothing to live for.”
Like he thought, the problem is a lot worse. Hoseok has no idea how he should respond – Yoongi has opened his heart to him (slightly, barely, but he shared more than he would otherwise) and he can tell that his hyung has been struggling. He doesn’t need words to understand that Yoongi isn’t feeling well. He feels like he’s about to get sick; Yoongi has been carrying all those doubts for how long now? And none of them had ever noticed.
Words aren’t everything. In neither direction. Even if he tells Yoongi he has a lot to live for – the six of them, his music, whatever the future may bring – that won’t magically change how Yoongi sees it. He wish it did.
“It means a lot that you’re sharing this with me, hyung. When you feel like this – no, before it gets this bad, can you promise you’ll give me a sign? We can go out together, or we can talk, or rap… If you can’t sleep, I can be with you until you fall asleep. Would that help at all?”
Yoongi wonders whether he should tell Hoseok everything. Would it relieve him if Hoseok knew about all of his worries? Or would it only burden him to hear everything Yoongi was struggling with – his place in the group, his loneliness, his sexuality, the cutting, the smoking… Was he capable of expressing all he felt, of opening his heart like that to someone younger than him?
“It might,” he says eventually, and it’s a start.
They head back in silence; Namjoon has that same look he did before Yoongi left, but doesn’t say anything this time either. Luckily he doesn’t see how Hoseok’s hand is wrapped around Yoongi’s wrist when they head to Yoongi’s bedroom.
That night Yoongi goes to bed with Hoseok next to him. Seokjin hadn’t known what to say when Hoseok declared he’d stay in their room that night, but he seemed to have accepted Hoseok’s explanation (“it can be too much sleeping in a room with Jimin and V and you know how Namjoon-hyung snores”).
Seokjin decides not to say anything when Hoseok is lying right next to Yoongi instead of sleeping where there’s more space either, especially when Yoongi doesn’t even complain the slightest about their sleeping arrangements.
He figures it’s one of those things he simply doesn’t understand about Yoongi. Just like how he doesn’t always understand Taehyung’s actions or Joonie’s speeches.
When they wake up the next morning, Seokjin doesn’t comment on their sleeping position either: Yoongi’s head is resting on Hoseok’s chest and the two of them look like they’ve never done anything else. It’s unexpected and unconventional, but Jin doesn’t care.
When Taehyung and Jimin ask him if he’s seen Hoseok, he tells them they should let him rest and forbids them from entering his room.
Yoongi wakes up calmer than ever. Hoseok’s arm is draped around him and it feels a bit like home. It’s the kind of comfortable touches he’d always avoided, but now he can’t help but wish he could stay like this longer. Begrudgingly, and before any of the others could see him like this (although he knows Seokjin has when he sees the empty bed), he gets up to get breakfast.
Hoseok wakes up mere seconds after Yoongi left. He feels the warmth on his chest and the pain in his shoulder from sleeping like that and can’t help but feel a little bit proud of himself. He realizes again that Yoongi has trusted him more than he ever seemed to trust any of them.
Jungkook had already been in his room the night before and therefore didn’t know what had transpired. His brow raises when Hoseok comes out of Jin and Yoongi’s bedroom, looking well-rested and not at all like he spend his night in a lion’s den (well, Seokjin-hyung wasn’t so bad, but Hobi could be hyper and Yoongi-hyung did not like hyper).
When he wants to say something, Namjoon gives him a tap on his thigh. “Don’t, Jungkookie,” he whispers. Jungkook really doesn’t want to listen because he’s curious and it seems like everyone else knows something he doesn’t, but at the same time he doesn’t want to risk their anger either, so he stays quiet… Although he makes a mental note to ask Jimin and Taehyung about it later when they’re alone.
He pays close attention to Yoongi-hyung and Hobi the whole morning, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. He wonders if it had to do anything with Yoongi going to visit Hoseok last night and how long it took for the two of them to come back (and Yoongi didn’t even show his face, he went to his room immediately and Hoseok followed not too long afterwards).
Hoseok is being his usual self, all happy and smiles and talking to Jimin and Taehyung who are the exact same. His other hyungs sit together and are more quiet. It’s a typical morning for the seven of them.
It’s not until he catches Hobi sneak a glance at Yoongi-hyung, worry in his eyes, that he knows something must be different. People don’t look at Yoongi-hyung like that. He’s not someone to be worried about, Jungkook thinks, he’s one of those people who doesn’t care, he just doesn’t.
His hyung looks back, no pointed glares, but a look in his eyes that’s indecipherable for Jungkook. He wants to know if Hoseok understands, but he’s been looking at the two of them for too long and Namjoon gives him another tap on the thigh.
When he’s alone with Jimin and Taehyung later that day (no completely alone, Namjoon-hyung is there as well, but neither of his other hyungs are and he figures Namjoon-hyung won’t berate him for trying to talk about it now).
“So,” he begins. Taehyung and Jimin are immediately interested and pause the game they’d been playing. “What’s up with Hoseok-hyung and Yoongi-hyung?”
Taehyung opens his mouth first. “Hoseokie didn’t want to stay with us yesterday night.”
“They have been acting rather chummy, right?” Jimin says. Talking about a mystery like this with the others is something he likes doing the most.
Namjoon looks up from the book he’s reading. “Don’t try to figure it out.”
It’s a seemingly nonsensical reply but Jungkook is used to it. Namjoon-hyung liked speaking in a way no one could understand.
When Namjoon thinks he might have figured it out, the puzzle only gets bigger. He’s known for his smarts, so when Yoongi pays close attention to the television he’d normally ignore and look deep in thoughts doing so, he thinks he knows what Yoongi is thinking about.
When it happens twice in a row and he looks even more worried the second time, he is fairly sure of his opinion. He thinks he’s even more right when Yoongi looks away from him when he’s looking, instead of glaring at him or even smiling or whatever it is Yoongi does (people thought of him as angry and grumpy, but Yoongi had many moods and he could very well be silly sometimes).
But Yoongi doesn’t do any of that and looks like he’d just committed a crime Namjoon found out about. Only it isn’t a crime, and Namjoon is certain that if Yoongi is worrying about that, he shouldn’t have to.
He keeps quiet only because he doesn’t find the opportunity to be alone with Yoongi, and he’s not about to ask him a personal question like that while everyone’s around, not when he has clearly spent some time worrying about it and does not look like he wants to tell a soul.
He sighs, and wonders how he’ll bring it up – he know he has to, especially after Yoongi went off to see Hoseok. Watching Yoongi gives him the feeling his hyung is close to the breaking point. And as his leader, his friend, he wants nothing more than to be there for him and support him, tell him that he doesn’t have to worry any longer, that he can rely on him – rely on all of them.
It’s his task to make sure they’re all happy. He’d be damned if he would let any of them down.
When Yoongi leaves the dorm to work on a track in his studio, he knows it’s time to follow and talk to him. Seokjin shoots him a look when he sees him skulking around the doorway, waiting for the right time to leave.
“Something’s up, right?” Seokjin asks, and for once Namjoon isn’t sure whether to be glad or not that Jin is the keenest of them all. The older male stares him down when he doesn’t immediately answer; it’s clear that he’s not planning on letting this go, that he knows there’s something more going on, that Namjoon doesn’t usually act like this.
He sighs. “Yeah, but I don’t know if I can tell you, hyung. I need to confirm it first.” Seokjin’s eyes widen, eyebrows raising almost comically. He runs a hand through his blonde locks, nodding slowly, eyes looking around as if he’s trying to process Namjoon’s words.
“It’s serious enough, huh?” he asks. Namjoon turns away from him, taking his coat from the rack in the doorway. “You can tell me later then, Joon-ah, when you’ve figured it out.”
“Thanks, hyung.” And Namjoon really is grateful. Because Seokjin understands, knows not to ask more yet, knows that Namjoon isn’t trying to hide things from him.
And now the hardest part, Namjoon thinks, trying to talk to Yoongi…