Yoongi was behind the steering wheel again. His headache was agonizing and he was going definitely too fast for the road. He couldn't blame himself, though, for he remembered wanting to go home as fast as he could. The smell of alcohol reeked the air and every headlight did nothing but make his eyes squint and his vision blurry. His palms were sweating and his heart was beating loud. Just a little more. Just a little more and he would be home. He knew the street too well and he sure knew that there was this once intersection up front, the one he had to pass every time he had to reach his own apartment with a red light that went too long. From the distance he could see that the light was green.

A girl was going to be hit on that very intersection.

It would be red by the time he managed to reach it so he practically did whatever a person would do on such an empty road at 3 in the morning. He stomped on the gas even harder and swerved forward, faster than ever.

The police would find no screeching mark-

That was when his headache hit him again, much like a person swinging a hammer to his head. Yoongi groaned, closing his eyes for a few seconds, peeling one hand off the steering wheel to massage his forehead.

-which meant that the car didn't even stop until it hit the poor girl.

It was something that he did for only a split second, yet the moment he opened his eyes, he could see someone standing right in front of his car, the lights hitting the figure. It didn't take long for him to even register who could it be, only to realize that there was indeed someone standing in front of his car with eyes wide opened, seemingly as surprised as he was.

Whoever it was that stood behind the steering wheel would be one hell of a murderer.

And Yoongi hit on the brake. He hit on the brake so hard, almost instantly. His body rocked forward, the seatbelt holding him, before his forehead met the hard surface of the steering wheel with a loud thud. Everything turned black and the only thing that Yoongi could register was the pounding on his head. He had this urge to vomit, his body trembling and stomach churning.

He pried one eye open, groaning. He blinked furiously, trying to regain the conscious that was slipping away from him. Blood was dripping down his forehead but he couldn't care less about that one.

And that was when he saw it, a figure standing right in front of his headlight. He did manage to prevent the crash now, didn't he? He didn't crash the person. He hit the brake on time and he wasn't-

"-a murderer?"

His eyes turned wide, looking at the person standing in the headlight. She was safe and sound, wasn't she? Yet as safe and sound as she was, the girl was already bleeding, blood pouring down his forehead, covering half her eyes and drenching her clothes. No, he didn't do that. He didn't hit the girl. The blood wasn't his fault.

"I'm not a murderer!" he screamed.

The girl's mouth twitched, forming a smile. It was a smile yet it was everything but that, sending chills and horror down his spine. It was a smile, something that reminded him oddly of Jimin's but this one didn't give him comfort. This one had him trembling and terrified. It wasn't his fault. It couldn't be. He hit the brake this time. There was no accident. There would be screech marks on the road and the police would know. They would know that he wasn't what she kept on saying.

"But you are."

.

Yoongi woke up with a jolt, his body drenched in sweat. He quickly scanned the room around him, making sure that he wasn't seeing things, because he swore he could hear the whispers again, not coming from the phone nor the television, but being said directly on his ear.

Yoongi had fallen asleep. He didn't even realize it, since the last thing he did remember was Jimin laughing to a generic animation of a badger, multiplying itself and singing something catchy in the background. That was the last thing he remembered before everything came in a blur and sleep took him in. It was seldom of him to fall asleep these days, and it kind of scared him that he didn't even realize it now. Then again, with Jimin around, he found it oddly too easy. He could simply close his eyes and open it to find hours had passed. Yesterday he could stay awake for three days with nothing but hours of sleep. This time he'd fallen asleep twice in a single day. What progress had he made.

He realized the sun already setting. The room was dark and he hadn't even turned the light on. The only thing that illuminated the room was the dim light coming from behind the closed curtain, courtesy of Seoul's street and Gangnam busy road.

"It's just a dream. You're fine Min Yoongi, you're perfectly okay," he repeated the words, burying his face in his own palm as he took a lungful of breath, comforting himself.

With Jimin's appearance last night, he had forgotten about the nightmares that plagued him. Yet here it was making an appearance alongside the thumping in his skull that he had known all too well. It stopped the moment Jimin arrived and it conveniently started the moment he-,

He turned his head around, trying to find the boy he realized had been missing. He was still in his apartment now, wasn't he? The laptop was missing from the couch and Jimin was nowhere to be seen in the living room. The darkness and the silence started to creep upon him. Flicking the light on and a quick glance at the clock said that it was somewhere around 11 p.m.

He slowly walked towards his own room, thinking that the boy had probably given up and took shelter upon the bed, dozing off. He found himself to be wrong since it was completely empty. His headache had come knocking back in as he did so, but Yoongi had tried his best to ignore it like he always did. His heart beat a little faster somehow, and so did his footsteps, because he quickly scrambled towards his study, hoping that he would find the boy messing with his papers and work. He was wrong once again, and this time he was running towards the guest room, slamming the door open.

"Jimin?"

The only thing that answered him was silence. Chill ran down his spine. There was something that felt really wrong with this, without having Jimin around. There was something wrong with waking up to an empty apartment, with nothing but silence greeting him. Min Yoongi was completely alone again.

There was no voice of Park Jimin around.

There was no voice but-,

A knock.

Someone was knocking.

He ran, scrambling towards the door. It would be Jimin, wouldn't it? The boy was just going out for a walk or something, playing with Taehyung even. He was gone only for a moment and he would return back just fine. He wouldn't be doing something bad now, something like taking the knife from his kitchen or-,

"Jimin?! You're-,"

It wasn't Jimin. It wasn't the boy with the chubby cheek and huge smile that stood in front of his door.

"Hyung?"

It was Namjoon, looking at him with face puzzled.

"You're expecting Jimin?" the younger asked, face looking worried.

Yoongi took a moment, inhaling deep breaths. His heart was pounding and his palms were sweating again. He was panicking for a few moments, and it didn't feel like it would stop if he didn't find Jimin. Yet here Namjoon stood right in front of him. It didn't give him much relief, but it still came as something better that the knocking that he heard was coming from someone else's, not just an imagination of his.

Worse, it could have even been the broken telephone ringing instead.

"N-no I just-," Yoongi ran his finger against his hair, trying to calm down. His headache didn't make any of this feel better. "He was here a moment ago."

Namjoon looked at him, probably realizing there was something more behind it. From that look alone Yoongi could tell that the younger was realizing things. He tried his best to look calm, even trying to gain that in the mean time as well, since his heart was still beating rapidly and someone was playing a drum on his head at the same rhythm.

"You're okay?" Namjoon asked.

He nodded too quickly to that question before stuttering back his own repetitive answer. Namjoon just sighed, realizing that the answer was etched already on his tongue. It would take a miracle for Yoongi to utter otherwise.

"Your car is finished. I've parked them downstairs," said Namjoon, taking out his hand and giving Yoongi his car's key back. "I got to run. Sorry I can't stay longer, hyung. There's a pile of assignment for tomorrow and Donghyuk is an ass since he even asked my help for his."

That came as a blessing, because Yoongi couldn't wait but to get to his own car and drove down the road to find Jimin. Did the boy return home? Where else could he possibly go? He said that he hated home. He wouldn't be going back now, would he?

"Thank you, Namjoon. Just bill me," he said, forcing out a smile on his face, hoping that it would shoo Namjoon away sooner.

The other man just sighed and walked towards the elevator door, pushing the button. Namjoon of course realized how on edge he was, but then again understanding that he hated to be pried upon. Just as that he thought that the conversation was over and how he had mentally thanked Namjoon for the understanding, the other man called out to him once again. He groaned, stopping midway and turned his head again to see the Kim walking back towards him. He motioned closer and there was something funny written across his face. It wasn't concern or the same worry that Seokjin always had for him. It was something else that Yoongi couldn't really read.

Namjoon just spent the moment looking at him with this serious glare. Whatever that the other man was trying to say to him felt heavy and important, he could tell that. Namjoon's hesitance didn't help him right now. He groaned instead.

"What? Just say it." He was impatient. Half his mind was still thinking about Jimin and minding the headache. The other just wanted Namjoon to say whatever he needed so he could get this conversation over as quickly as possible.

Namjoon sighed before continuing. "I'm saying this because I'm concerned, okay? I know that you hated questions, but I still need to ask. And more than everything, I trust you, okay hyung? It's just-, fuck, this makes me so fucking worried about you."

That half part of his mind that was thinking about Jimin got him seeing and feeling Namjoon's words to be annoying instead. He clearly understood the urgency in the other man's tone, but it ricocheted directly from him. Everybody was worried, he got that already. What could possibly be worse than how he was right now? He was fine. He was perfectly fucking okay. How many time did he have to repeat that?

"What?!" he said impatiently, tone raising.

"Hyung, first of all I want you to know that I believe you, okay? I trust you. You're my best friend and I-,"

"Just fucking tell me what's bothering you, okay?!" Yoongi said, almost yelling.

Namjoon was taken aback by it for he shut his mouth already. It didn't get him faltering, but it did make him stand there, looking back at him in the eye with a serious gaze. They both heard the 'ding' of the elevator on the background but neither moved. He rarely got mad at Namjoon, and maybe if the man was going to rant on how worried he was all over again, saying words he had listened to for the hundredth of time, he would probably explode just like he did with Jimin before and this time he-,

"They found blood on the car."

Yoongi blinked. Blood? What blood? His blood on the steering wheel?

"On your car, hyung. The mechanics found traces of blood on your car. I've paid them up, of course, so they wouldn't say anything and make up some excuses. But they did find blood. On the broken front right headlight."

He didn't remember having a broken headlight. He crashed his car on the rear right, towards the back. His front headlight was functioning perfectly okay, wasn't it? Wait, didn't Hoseok said something about a broken headlight before?

"I got that from crashing on Jimin," Yoongi said. Yeah, that would be logical. He managed to swerve his car on time, he only nudged the boy with his headlight. The blood was probably the boy's.

So was that something that had been bothering Namjoon? The other man should be relaxed by now, since he had proved him with an explanation. A logical one, even. Did Namjoon think that he was a murderer? Did he turn heads over hells after coming up with a theory that his best friend might be a killer? He had explained it to Namjoon, yet why did the man still look tensed right now?

"That's not the only one, hyung."

What?

"They found traces of blood at the hood of your car and towards the back."

Something snapped inside of him. Namjoon wasn't joking now, was he? Of course he wasn't. He wouldn't be looking this serious and worried if he was indeed joking. How could there be blood? Maybe it just happened to rain blood here in Seoul and it got on to his car? Maybe someone just smeared it on to make it look like he just-,

"Did you think I crash on someone?"

He couldn't be. The only person that he crash on was Jimin. That day on the intersection when he crashed his car against the pole, he clearly didn't hit on anyone. Fuck. There wasn't even anyone on the road. It was bad alcohol and him imagining stuff.

"Did you, hyung?"

Yoongi's eyes turned wide. Then what about the dream? What about the nightmare? Was it true? Did he hit on someone and he didn't remember it? It couldn't possibly be. Even if he hit someone, he would remember seeing a figure walk in front of his car, he would then try to at least hit on the brake-,

"And you know the worst thing, hyung? The police found no screeching marks-"

"I don't-,"

He remembered the nightmare too vividly to be a dream. He remembered the car just kept on running and the figure was thrown from the road towards the window of his own car before rolling up towards the roof and disappeared from sight. He remembered his car was going so fast he even hardly felt the impact.

"-which meant that the car didn't even stop until it hit that poor girl."

Yoongi slammed his door shut in front of Namjoon's face. No, he wasn't remembering. It was a dream, a dream that felt too much like a reality. It was the dream that he was remembering.

"Go away!" he screamed, locking the door before turning around, having his back against the door and fell on the floor.

He could hear Namjoon's yell behind it, frantically knocking and calling out for his name. He had forgotten completely about looking out for Jimin or the fact that his head was splitting right now. The only thing that ran in his mind was the vivid nightmare and Hoseok's words on repeat. No, he didn't crash on anyone. He didn't kill anyone. He wasn't-.

"I'm not a murderer!" he yelled.

He could hear Namjoon's scream, telling him that "I'm not saying that you are."

But Namjoon did. With his words and accusation. Or rather it wasn't Namjoon. It was the whispers on the telephone. It was the static through the television. It was the words written on the wall. It was everywhere and they were all trying to tell him the same thing over and over again. Maybe he was just too dumb to even realize it and they needed Namjoon's voice this time to tell him exactly that.

"I'm not a murderer."

His voice was faltering.

"I'm fine. I'm perfectly-,"

Even now he couldn't find it in himself to believe in those words anymore.

.

The apartment was too empty. It was too quiet. It was too quiet without the phone ringing. It was too quiet without Jimin's laugh in it. It was only him. There was only a Min Yoongi breathing, sitting behind the door right on the cold floor. Three o'clock already. Witching hour. He had fallen asleep too many times today. He certainly wouldn't be able to sleep again any time soon. Not like he wanted to as well, with the nightmare that threatened him every time he closed his eyes. Namjoon had left. He had probably given up on knocking or maybe Mrs. Kim from next door had told him to for being a disturbance. Either way it was too quiet and Yoongi felt something that he hadn't felt in a long time.

The emptiness was back. It was wrong to say that he felt the emptiness, because at that moment he didn't feel anything at all. He just sat there, looking at his apartment that somehow felt too big all of a sudden.

He felt as if he returned to those days before the whispers and Park Jimin. He returned to the days of sitting slump in front of his television. Yet the only reminder that he wasn't, was the broken telephone lying around the cracked TV screen. Other than that he wouldn't even know whether a month or two had passed or not.

His mind was empty and so did his heart. It oddly felt like it.

He was back to feeling nothing and doing nothing but breath.

That was the moment where he turned his head towards his kitchen. Something was calling out towards him. There was a voice that hardly felt like a voice at all, whispering on his ear. It wasn't like the telephone, this was something else, weird but there. The voice was familiar and he'd definitely heard it before.

He slowly got up and walked towards the kitchen. There he saw it. The kitchen knife. They were the one calling him, weren't they? Were they flirting with him? They were asking for him to come back, said that they missed him. Said that they once were having such a good time. Why not having another one right now?

His finger ran towards the handle, taking it out gently, holding it in the air. It felt lighter than it used to be in the hand of a twelve-years-old Min Yoongi. He eyed his left wrist. They were asking for a kiss. They wanted to caress his skin as much as he wanted to caress theirs. They wanted to kiss every part of him, tasting his pale skin with the lick of their tongue. They wanted to be one again with him, being inside of him, having him leaked that life out of him. And with every passing that they were together, with every touch that burn his skin, he would moan out that sweet pure agony from between his lips.

So yes, they were calling out towards him. They were waiting for that kiss, slowly inching closer towards one another yet again. They were waiting and calling. They would do just as the telephone did. They would keep on calling and calling and-,

"Hyung?"

There was another voice, calling out for him.

He didn't even realize it but he had dropped the knife on the floor, the metal clattering loudly against it. He had walked towards the door with a steady footstep. He unlocked the door and slowly opened it.

"Hi hyung."

It was Jimin, of course. Chubby cheek, warm smile, sunshine and every bit of bright. He was smiling like the way he always did.

"I just came home to take care of some stuff. Sorry I took off," he said, grinning, before walking inside and passed him, straight towards the couch.

He came back like nothing happened, like Yoongi didn't wake up panicking to his absence. He was fine. He wasn't doing anything bad like Yoongi thought he might be. He was fine. He was perfectly okay.

"I know that it's 3 o'clock in the morning but I'm hungry," the boy said as Yoongi slowly walked towards the couch himself, sitting next to Jimin. "Can we have some pizza again?"

Yoongi turned his head towards Jimin on his right. The boy was there like he didn't even leave on the first place. This simple scene and fact became something foreign for him to understand. He felt from empty to breaking apart in mere seconds. He couldn't even process things in his mind, even the simplest fact that Park Jimin was sitting in front of him came as something that seemed undeniably wrong.

"Hyung?" Jimin asked, his brows arched in confusion.

He simply mimicked Jimin's expression. Everything was weird. Everything didn't make any sense.

"What's wrong? You don't look okay," he said, voice concerned.

He couldn't even hate on the question. He was just-,

"What happened?"

Jimin went from concerned to worried. The boy bit on his own lips before taking Yoongi's hand slowly on his. That was when Jimin turned his wrist around and noticed something else. It was exactly when he did as well.

"Hyung, what did you do?!" the boy said.

Yoongi turned his attention towards his own wrist and there he saw it, his left hand already bleeding. There was a cut there, one that went vertical, just like how he had explained to Jimin properly before. The cut wasn't deep enough but it was still bleeding, the red liquid running through his arm. He turned his head towards the knife then, lying on top of the floor, forgotten. He could make out the hint of red on its blade. Funny. He remembered holding it but he didn't remember cutting his skin with it.

The boy got up and walked towards his bathroom, returning with the same first aid kit that he used to help tend the boy's wound. Now it was the exact opposite from yesterday. How comical. Everything certainly didn't make any sense.

"You said that it wouldn't make anything better," Jimin said, tending to his wound.

All the while he looked at Jimin's own left wrist. The bandage he had put on was still there.

"It wouldn't," Yoongi said, his voice sounding foreign to his own ear.

"Then why did you do it?" Jimin said, looking directly into his eyes.

"I don't remember doing it."

Yoongi question changed something in Jimin's face. It shocked the boy, probably, as much as it would shock himself if he could feel as well. He simply couldn't right now, even the touch of Jimin's fingers and the alcohol he poured on the wound felt a million miles away. Jimin wrapped a bandage around his wrist, doing it exactly like he did with the boy's before looking back into Yoongi's eyes again.

He couldn't understand whatever the boy was probably trying to say to him. He couldn't understand or feel anything. He couldn't even think right. His brain wasn't even functioning properly.

Maybe this was what broken felt like. It wasn't tears and screams. It was just this hollowness that crept upon you. It was feeling completely empty, you could even feel the wind gushing right through you. It was having the life sucked out from your body, leaving nothing but a hole in your chest.

"Jimin," he said softly.

He wasn't trying to call out for the boy. He was simply saying a name of the person that sat right in front of him. That was the only thing that felt real to him right now.

"What do you want to say, hyung?" the boy then answered. He actually didn't have anything to say but the boy's name. Then again his mind had somehow come up with the words, all by itself. They were at least, still functioning in a certain way.

"Am I a murderer?"

Jimin curved his eyebrows.

"Why do you say that?"

He eyed the broken telephone again. Why wouldn't it ring right now? He hoped that it would so he could shove the telephone towards Jimin's ear and let him hear the words all by himself.

"I heard voices."

The boy must be thinking that he was crazy. Everybody that heard this must be.

"They kept on saying that i'm a murderer."

He'd convinced himself that he wasn't. He'd convinced himself that he was okay. Only this time his tongue had felt numb to the words. That reassurance, that mantra he kept on repeating, had sounded more like a lie right now.

"I keep having headaches. I can't sleep and when I do it's filled with nightmares."

He wanted Jimin to repeat those words for him. It would then feel real, when someone else was saying it for him, exactly like the boy just did yesterday. Yet the Park just listened to him with eyes unwavering.

"I-I-,"

Jimin's grip on his wrist tightened.

"Am I going crazy, Jimin?"

The great Min Yoongi had finally lost it. The stubborn Min Yoongi that kept on saying how fine he was. He finally broke and looked who was there in front of him right now. A stupid brat who barely knew him.

Jimin shook his head.

"No, hyung," he said, his voice soft. "You're just human."

.

He should have been lying on his own bed. Maybe it was the living room that he'd fallen in love with. Maybe it didn't necessarily need to be the couch. Maybe he could drag his bed on the living room and sleep on it just fine. He couldn't sleep and it didn't come as a surprise anymore. He just laid there with eyes opened in the dark, looking back at another. It was dark but he could still certainly make out the outline of the chubby cheek and soft smile in front of him. The never seemed to falter.

Jimin was lying facing him and he could tell that the boy still had his eyes opened, being as wide awake as he was. That, and the finger that still caressed his wrist softly. Jimin was tracing the scar with the tip of his finger, even when there was a piece of bandage wrapped around them. Yet he still did that, continuously stroking his wrist.

"You're not asleep?" he heard himself asking.

Jimin shook his head.

"The sun's about to rise," the younger whispered softly.

From the corner of his eyes, he could see a faint light glistening from behind the beige curtain, a sign of the dawn breaking, the glimmer of light at the far end of the horizon. He had spent days waking up at the most random of time that the sun rising wasn't a sight foreign to him anymore.

"What are you thinking, hyung?"

His mind wandered towards how Jimin could laugh. He could cry and smile. Even Taehyung could spend his time fooling around with a boy inside of the elevator. Even Hoseok was probably on his way touring all around South Korea, shrieking that notorious laugh of his. The people around him were moving forward and even when he could see the path in front of him, he stopped there, stuck on the same endless routine over and over again.

"I can't feel anything," he whispered. He didn't know why, but he got the urge to whisper the words to Jimin when they were actually the only one inhabiting that apartment.

"Yes you can," Jimin said, tugging on his wrist. "You feel that?"

"Not like that."

"How about that? Feel that?" this time the boy pinched the back of his palm.

"That hurt, stupid," Yoongi said, returning the pinch with a kick towards the boy's shin.

Jimin giggled after exclaiming a rather loud 'ouch'.

"What?"

"You're lying, hyung," the boy whispered, going back to touch his wrist and caressed it slowly. "You do feel stuff."

This was stupid. He was lying on his couch with a boy he barely knew, face to face. That wasn't genuine feeling. That was his senses reacting to pshysical stuff. The real feeling, the one that lingered in the heart, he lacked that the most.

"I can't smile the way you did."

He could feel Jimin's breath against his skin.

"Or cry like you."

He hated physical contact. He loathed it. But then again the fingers on his wrist felt so soothing. Why did it feel so familiar? The warmth, the comfort.

"Or laugh like you."

He could tell that Jimin was blinking. The boy always did that whenever he try to understand something.

"Why do you want to be like me?"

"Because you're everything that I'm not."

Jimin laughed again and at that point Yoongi had the slightest urge to smack him on the head or flick that forehead instead.

"You're silly, hyung," he said. "Just because I can smile and laugh doesn't mean I can be everything that you're not. Other people can cry and laugh just fine. Why don't you be just like anyone else?"

"Like who?"

"Like Taehyung? He seems nice and optimistic. See? Totally the opposite of you, hyung."

Yoongi snorted. Not Taehyung. Certainly not him. Taehyung was annoying. Jimin did laugh and annoy him as much, but there was definitely something else from Taehyung that he simply couldn't stand. On top of that Taehyung was-,

"Certainly not him."

"Why? Because he's gay?"

No. Of course not. Yoongi had no problem with that. He was the most laid-back person on earth. Other people's business was entirely their own and he didn't give any damn whatsoever even if Taehyung turned out to be a satanist that was into bestiality (which would be a really extreme example).

"No. Because he's an alien."

Alongside the other boy he'd been fooling with as well, Jungkook. Why was the raven-haired boy kept on looking at him like that? The boy that Taehyung kissed inside of the elevator. God knows what they could possible be doing in that elevator besides making out. He'd done something worse as well there, back when he was still venturing clubs with alcohol in his hand and a different girl's waist around his arm.

Why was he thinking about this right now? Groaning, Yoongi shifted and laid on his stomach this time, burrying his face into the cushion. He wouldn't be able to sleep, he knew it.

"Hyung?"

Yoongi grumbled upon the couch, making incoherent noises as a response. He waited for Jimin to speak, ask him questions or some sort. Instead the boy just kept quiet. He let him be, sighing against the mattress.

"You said that you can't feel anything, right?" he said finally after a few momenst, voice low and hushed. There was a hint of something else in the tone but Yoongi ignored it.

He didn't need to answer that. He didn't need to repeat for the second time how hollow he felt. Jimin's fingers were playing around with the edge of the bandage on his left wrist as the boy spoke. He let Jimin do as he want, his fingers slipping behind the fabric and pulled the bandage down, loosening it against his wrist.

"I'm going to help you now, okay?"

And he thought about how could the boy even do that? Feeling wasn't something that you could do easily, and a certain Park Jimin couldn't make him suddenly feel as easy as that, couldn't he? That was when Jimin did more than just caressing his skin. He took his hand closer, up towards his face. At first Yoongi didn't do much and let the boy take his hand. That was when he felt the hot breath against his skin and Jimin's lips upon his wrist.

"What are you doing?" he said, jerking his head around, looking at Jimin on his left.

The boy's lips were on his wrist. He could feel him kissing his scar gently before slowly sucking on the side. He went from his wrist towards his palm and finger before Jimin put his middle and index finger between his lips, sucking on them slowly. His tongue worked its way around the tip of his fingers. That was when Yoongi shuddered with a hitch on his throat. He quickly pried his finger away, body turned towards Jimin.

"What are you-."

He didn't get to finish his sentence as Jimin moved towards him, pinning him down on the couch, hands between his head and knees apart. It was too dark for him to grasp upon the boy's expression.

"I'm helping you, hyung," the boy whispered on his ear, voice low and deep.

He didn't really understand what the boy just said. He thought about asking again, pushing Jimin off the couch even, before he grinded down against him and his voice caught in between his teeth.

"Shit."

His legs felt weak and with Jimin trapping him, he found his hand fisting against the boy's shirt instead. He should be pushing the boy off. He should be lecturing him about sexual intercourse and the risk that came with it. He shouldn't be thinking about how warm his body started to feel or how firm Jimin's arm was underneath his grip. He shouldn't be thinking about the tension that was building up in his stomach and how he started to feel himself hardening. He certainly shouldn't even be thinking about Taehyung and Jungkook, the scene from yesterday flashing in his own mind. Most of all, he shouldn't even be moving his own hip, jerking them upwards, trying to get the friction he desperately need.

This was not feeling. This was paying off the deprivation. This was the same as quenching your thirst after days of scorching hot sun. This was the same as falling asleep after three nights of constant nightmares. This was not feeling at all. This was – just like the pinch – reacting to physical senses. This was-,

Jimin's lips ghosted right on top of his own, letting out a shaky breath.

"I'm going to help you feel, hyung," he said, stopping for a moment. He could feel the boy's breath against his. He could easily close that tiny gap with a tug of his lips. "And you're going to tell me when you finally do."

He thought that Jimin was going to do it for him, crashing their lips together in a string of hot mess until tongues took over and conscience bleed away from his mind. No, the boy pulled his head and went towards his left wrist instead, holding them gently and placing a soft kiss upon his scars.

"Feel that?" he whispered, before moving his lips up towards his inner elbow, planting trail of soft kisses against his skin. The moment Jimin ended on his shoulder, the boy had pulled his body up slightly, only to pry Yoongi's shirt over his head and tossed it aside. He resumed where he left off, trailing kisses down from Yoongi's shoulder, across his shoulder blade and towards his neck, all the while grinding his hips again towards Yoongi's in a slow rhythm. He took him in a stride, taking his moment on the elder's neck, drawing roses against his pale skin.

"Or that?" he whispered again.

And Jimin ghosted alongside Yoongi's jaw before kissing him right at that spot behind his ear, sucking them slowly, hips still thrusting against his lazily.

"Or that?"

And Jimin gave him a particular swift thrust, deep enough the moans that Yoongi held in his throat managed to slip between his lips.

"Or that?"

And Jimin crashed their lips together, one hand cupping Yoongi's jaw while the other still gripping on his left wrist firmly. Yoongi's world was on fire. Everything came in a series of hot blurry noises. He thought that it would easily be a hot mess of tongue, but Jimin kissed him softly, too softly even, for an already shirtless Yoongi and a burning erection down his pants. Everywhere Jimin touched him burn. The trail of kisses he left all over his skin felt like traces of fire, its tongue now invading his mouth, sending jolt of pain throughout his body, licking and consuming the oxygen from his lungs.

Jimin was just a boy he barely knew. A boy who came to his apartment with cuts on his hand, crying. A boy whose tongue now darting across his own. A boy whose hands gripping his left wrist tightly it started to hurt.

Yet as much as it hurt, he could feel himself drifting off from conscience.

That was probably the moment Yoongi lost it all. He growled against Jimin's mouth. Everything was fire and like an arsonist he couldn't get enough. He had dropped the lighter and now all he wanted to do was soaked himself in gasoline and let the fire consume him. He wanted to feel the heat as it burn bigger and bigger.

Yoongi grabbed Jimin's ass with both hands, prying his left wrist free, this time pulling the boy's hips down towards his burgeoning erection, dying for contact. The boy had seemingly got the same idea for the soft kisses had turned into tongues darting around sloppily. Jimin quickened his pace, hands venturing down Yoongi's lanky figure before it stopped around his hips.

The boy's fingers fumbled with his zipper, taking them down with a swift thrust along with his boxer. Jimin didn't say another word, the younger simply turning him around and Yoongi got the idea all along. He turned around, knees and elbow supporting himself on the couch. The younger spit on his own finger and Yoongi could tell so without even turning his head around, for the boy's finger felt wet as it teased him around his entrance.

They didn't speak another word. It would only take Jimin to grab upon his left wrist again and feel Yoongi relaxing underneath his touch to push his index and middle finger in slowly. Yoongi grunted into the couch, fingers clawing at the rough texture. It was pain. It was cutting himself up, turning him on fire. Yet it was the exact thing that he was asking for. He thanked the boy for not stopping, even as his whole body tensed around his fingers. Jimin's grip around his left wrist just got tighter in each seconds, he wouldn't be surprised to find his wound bleeding again.

Jimin worked his fingers inside of him, scissoring and moving around slowly. When Jimin felt himself relaxing, the boy pumped his finger in and out, at first in such a horribly agonizing low pace, all the while searching for that spot that would drive Yoongi over the edge. He certainly didn't know why gay people like this a lot. Blowjob was supposed to be the best thing that a man could ever get for.

He was proven wrong, at least, when Jimin finally found what he was searching for and Yoongi found himself stuttering a moan. Jimin took out his finger only to add a third and pounded the same sweet spot over and over again. His own cock was already leaking and Jimin wouldn't risk Yoongi coming so soon already, for he took out his fingers, only to line his own cock now against his entrance.

It was different than mere fingers. It hurt even more, his body stretched and full. He was masochistic, probably, for it felt sublime at the same time and he even had the time to register it.

"God, you're so tight, hyung," he heard Jimin groaned.

"I've never done this before," Yoongi returned, his voice hoarse. It was the first syllables that he uttered other than moans.

He didn't need to see it, but he knew Jimin was smirking. He felt the boy move inside of him slowly, giving an experimental thrust to see whether Yoongi felt the pain or not. At that point pain or no pain he really didn't care at all. He was feeling everything. The pain, the pleasure, both combined, and he certainly wouldn't let the fire die just yet.

"Sure you have, hyung," Jimin said, whispering.

He cocked his eyebrow against the couch, wanting to question what Jimin meant by that, when the boy took his member out all the way but the tip before slamming himself back towards Yoongi hard. The elder cried out, words and sentences soon forgotten.

Jimin started to move himself at a slow pace. His right hand was on Yoongi's waist, the other was grabbing his other left wrist, caressing them slowly. The gesture was awkward, but he certainly wasn't one to complain when Jimin found that sweet spot again within him. A quick thrust and he was seeing stars. Jimin rocked his hips relentlessly and Yoongi went along with it, trying to burry himself deeper, rocking together with the boy. The elder spread his legs even wider, trying to get Jimin deeper into himself and everything started to become white upon noises.

He was pouring gasoline. He was setting himself on fire. Jimin's name came out from his lips in a symphony of moans and cuss words. He could hear it all. The grunts, the sound of skin slapping against one another, the shameless whine that filled the empty apartment. And at the same time he could feel it all. The fingers still caressing his left wrist even underneath the relentless thrusts, the hand that was once on his waist, venturing towards his leaking member, even the warmth that was Jimin's skin against his own. It wasn't feeling like he wanted it to be. It wasn't happy, it wasn't sad, and it clearly wasn't love. But Jimin was there and he made him feel. His chest didn't feel hollow anymore. There was no wind gushing through him. They were blazing on fire instead.

He was alive.

"You're real," he heard himself grunted on the couch.

The younger stopped his thrust only to turn him around and crashed their lips together again. Yoongi realized that Jimin was still having his shirt on and his fingers darted underneath the fabric, yanking them away passed the younger's head as they remembered to breath.

"What did you say?" the younger whispered in front of his lips.

He could do more than just feel. He could see the light slowly seeping in through the curtain as the sun rose, giving in the illusion of fire blazing inside the room. But more than that, he could see Jimin's face in front of him and thought how beautiful he looked. Park Jimin was in front of him, fucking him relentlessly and he was as real as his nightmares could get. He was as real as that soft smile in front of the club. He was as real as Taehyung's and Jungkook's tiny whimpers that filled the small elevator.

"You're fucking real, Park Jimin."

Jimin lifted Yoongi's legs towards his shoulder. The new position gave Jimin leverage to burry himself deeper and he slipped in even further. Yoongi didn't even care when he clawed at Jimin's skin, leaving scratching marks down the boy's arms and shoulder.

Their thrusts were erratic right now, such thing as rhythm forgotten. Jimin's thrust were getting faster and deeper in each second, the grunts that the boy was holding had turned into moans and strings of Yoongi's name. Jimin was still pumping his own member and Yoongi knew that he was close. The boy ran his lips towards his neck again, sucking and kissing before it lingered upon his ears.

"Feel that now, hyung?"

And Yoongi did. He felt everything. He finally came in a series of hot mess upon hearing the words, Jimin's name leaving his lips like a sin. Jimin came soon after, thrusting a few more times as Yoongi rode through his orgasm, body twitching and his nerves ending burning. He came inside of Yoongi, hot and messy.

They exploded just like the star, loud, bright, and destroying everything in its path. Their fire was bright and for a moment Yoongi couldn't see anything but blinding light. He couldn't hear anything but his own heavy breaths and beating hard beat. He couldn't feel anything but Jimin's collapsing next to him, skin warm and hot.

His body was sensitive, every nerves in his body were twitching. He was at his most sensitive, a simple touch could send him tumbling down a hill, burning his skin raw. And yet he certainly couldn't feel anything real but Jimin's fingers, caressing his left wrist again after that.

"You're real," he heard himself grunting through his shaky breaths, repeating the words.

He turned around to see Jimin next to him, oddly smiling, body drenched in sweat. He was being a cheeky brat, probably proud with what he did, with how he got to prove himself wrong, with how he got Yoongi admitting his defeat.

He wasn't feeling the way he wanted to. It wasn't sadness or happiness. It wasn't butterfly fluttering in his stomach or a jolt in his heart. Maybe he didn't need those all. It wasn't actually a mere physical sense that he went through today. That day it was Jimin that he felt, and it transcended any feelings that he could hope to attain. It wasn't just hormones and sexual tension. He realized it to be better, knew it and believed it to be more than just that.

That day he was alive.

"I am," Jimin whispered back towards him, smiling.

And he certainly was.