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"Bitch" the words almost drowned out by the sound of his slap against Yoongi's cheek. "You're worthless. Only good for one thing." The man's breath smelled like cheap cigarettes and stale beer. Yoongi tried to turn his head away, but the grip on his jaw tightened, fingers digging into bone. Cold concrete pressed against his bare back. The single, flickering bulb overhead cast long, dancing shadows that seemed to reach for him.
He couldn't move. His limbs felt leaden, strapped down by invisible weights. Panic clawed its way up his throat, thick and suffocating. He tried to scream, but only a choked gasp escaped. The man leaned closer, his face a blur of malice. "Nobody's coming for you." The words echoed, bouncing off the damp walls of the tiny, windowless room. Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut, praying for darkness, for silence, for anything but this.
A sharp gasp tore from Yoongi's lips as he jolted upright in bed. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead, his heart hammering against his ribs like a frantic bird trapped in a cage. The sheets tangled around his legs felt like restraints. For one terrifying second, the stale cigarette smell lingered. He frantically scanned the moonlit bedroom Jeongguk's hoodie draped over a chair, the faint glow of the city skyline through the blinds, the soft hum of the air conditioner. He heard walking outside of the bedroom, and shot out of bed. Hurrying to close the door and lock it, he leaned against it, breathing heavily. He was safe. He was home. He wasn't in that concrete tomb.
"Hyung?" Jeongguk's voice, thick with sleep but instantly alert, came from the other side of the door. The knob rattled gently. "Yoongi-hyung? You okay?" The sound was impossibly soft, deliberately non-threatening. Jeongguk knew. He always knew. Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut, trembling fingers pressed against the cool wood. The phantom sensation of fingers digging into his jaw warred with the gentle concern radiating through the door. He couldn't speak, couldn't unlock it yet. Not while the echo of "Nobody's coming for you" still vibrated in his bones.
He slid down the door until he sat crumpled on the floor, knees drawn tight to his chest. His breath hitched, ragged gasps tearing through the silence. Moonlight painted silver stripes across the carpet, highlighting Jeongguk’s worn sneakers pushed neatly against the wall mundane anchors to reality. He focused on the texture of the carpet beneath his fingertips, rough against his skin, grounding him away from the cold concrete. Slowly, deliberately, he counted Jeongguk’s soft breaths outside the door: one... two... three... proof against the lie echoing in his nightmare.
"Hyung it's just me out here can I come in?" Jeongguk's voice was muffled through the wood but achingly familiar like worn leather and honeycomb. Yoongi pressed his forehead against the doorframe noticing a tiny chip in the paint shaped like Australia. He traced its coastline with a trembling finger focusing on the tactile reality of splintered wood beneath his nail not the phantom sting on his cheek. "Door's locked" he finally rasped the admission scraping his throat raw. Outside Jeongguk shifted his weight making the floorboard groan a comforting predictable sound. "Okay" Jeongguk murmured "Okay. I'll wait right here." The simplicity of it the *choice* offered punched through Yoongi's panic harder than any demand for entry ever could.
"Do you know what Jimin told me at work today?" Jeongguk started softly, his voice a steady murmur against the doorframe. Yoongi pressed his ear closer, focusing on his voice and not the phantom cigarette stench still clinging to his nostrils. "He said his cat tripped over its own tail chasing a laser pointer." A pause. "Knocked over his grandmother's porcelain vase." Yoongi almost snorted.
Slowly Yoongi could feel himself calm down and slowly opened the door. Minimally letting his boyfriend in before closing and locking the door again. Jeongguk didn't hesitate to pull Yoongi into his arms. "You're safe, hyung," he whispered into Yoongi's hair, his voice thick with emotion. Yoongi buried his face in Jeongguk's chest, inhaling the familiar scent of his boyfriend's soap and laundry detergent. He focused on the steady rhythm of Jeongguk's heartbeat against his ear, a tangible anchor to the present moment. Jeongguk's arms tightened around him, warm and secure, chasing away the lingering chill of the nightmare.
"Can you buy me spaghetti tomorrow?" Yoongi asked in a small voice muffled against Jeongguk's shoulder. Jeongguk chuckled softly, the vibration rumbling through Yoongi's chest. "Anything you want, hyung. Extra spaghetti?" His fingers traced soothing circles on Yoongi's back, avoiding the still-tender bruises hidden beneath his thin shirt. The simple planning of a meal anchored Yoongi firmly in their shared reality no concrete, no flickering bulbs, just Jeongguk's warmth and the promise of pasta.
"Yes please... from the good restaurant" Yoongi mumbled into Jeongguk's shoulder, the request anchoring him to the tangible world of takeout menus and ceramic plates. Jeongguk hummed agreement, fingers still tracing slow, deliberate circles on Yoongi's spine, careful pressure mapping the area of healing muscle beneath worn cotton. Outside, a distant siren wailed - a sound that usually made Yoongi flinch - but muffled against Jeongguk's chest. "Extra garlic bread too," Jeongguk added decisively, his chin resting atop Yoongi's head. "And maybe those little chocolate cannoli."
"Are you ready to go back to bed sweetheart?" Jeongguk asked softly, his thumb rubbing slow circles against Yoongi's shoulder blade where the worst bruises had faded to yellow-green constellations. Yoongi shook his head, the movement small against Jeongguk's collarbone. "Okay," Jeongguk murmured, shifting just enough to reach behind him without letting go. He snagged the thick, faux-fur throw blanket draped over the armchair, pulling it around both of them like a cocoon. The sudden weight and warmth were an immediate balm, muffling the world outside their locked door.
"The gang is coming over friday you still okay with that baby?" Jeongguk whispered softly, his lips brushing Yoongi's temple. He kept his voice low and steady, like someone coaxing a startled animal. "Seokjin-hyung promised he'd bring his famous kimchi-jjigae." Yoongi stiffened momentarily, the thought of voices crowding their apartment tightening his throat. But Jeongguk's thumb resumed its slow arc across his shoulder blade, tracing the ridge of scar tissue beneath thin cotton. "We can always cancel baby they'll understand" Jeongguk added quickly.
"no.. no it's fine I'm fine" Yoongi mumbled against Jeongguk's collarbone, fingers tightening in the soft fabric of his boyfriend's sleep shirt. The phantom cigarette smell finally dissipated, replaced entirely by Jeongguk's clean laundry scent and the faint musk of sleep. Jeongguk shifted slightly, pulling Yoongi closer until Yoongi's head rested securely in the hollow of his shoulder. "Okay," Jeongguk breathed, his voice vibrating softly against Yoongi's ear. "We'll keep the door locked while they're here. And you tell me anytime, even halfway through kimchi-jjigae, if you need them gone. Deal?"
"Deal," Yoongi whispered back, the word barely audible. He focused on the rhythmic rise and fall of Jeongguk's chest beneath him, a slow metronome countering the frantic drumbeat still fading in his own ribs. Outside, the city's hum was a low, constant thrum, different from the oppressive silence of the concrete room. Jeongguk looked down at his lover to find him asleep. He decided to wait ten minutes before moving them to the bed his boyfriend on the side closest to the wall away from the door.
The next day dawned brittle and bright, sunlight slicing through the blinds like shards of glass. Jeongguk woke first, careful not to jostle Yoongi curled tightly against his side. He watched the slow flutter of Yoongi’s eyelashes against pale cheeks, the tension still etched around his mouth even in sleep. Jeongguk slipped out of bed silently, padding to the kitchen. The familiar ritual of brewing coffee filled the quiet apartment – the gurgle of the machine, the rich aroma blooming – a counterpoint to last night's shadows.
Later, as Yoongi picked at his spaghetti at their small table, Jeongguk slid a small, nondescript box across the worn wood. "Found this at the hardware store," he said casually, popping a piece of garlic bread into his mouth. Inside lay a brass chain lock, sturdy and gleaming. "For the bedroom door. Adds another deterrent, yeah? Only works from the inside." Yoongi’s fingers traced the cool metal. He didn't speak, just nodded once, sharply, before finally taking a proper bite of pasta.
The knock came precisely at seven on Friday, sharp and rhythmic. Jeongguk squeezed Yoongi’s hand where it lay clenched on the couch cushion. "Remember," he murmured, "door stays locked. Signal anytime." Yoongi nodded, throat tight. Jeongguk answered, greeting Seokjin’s booming laugh and Namjoon’s quieter rumble. The familiar scent of kimchi-jjigae flooded the entryway, warm and pungent. Yoongi stayed seated, watching Jeongguk effortlessly steer the group towards the living room, away from the hallway leading to their bedroom.
Hoseok, Jimin and Taehyung arrived only five minutes later full of laughs and overlapping chatter. Jeongguk intercepted them near the hallway, casually leaning against the wall beside their bedroom door. "Hyung's got a headache," Jeongguk announced quietly, his posture relaxed but his eyes scanning Yoongi's face across the room. "Keeping things low-key tonight." Jimin immediately softened, tossing his jacket onto the armchair instead of heading towards the coat closet near the bedroom. "No problem," he chirped, already drifting towards Seokjin unpacking containers in the kitchen. "We brought soju!"
Yoongi watched Taehyung sprawl dramatically onto the rug near the coffee table, complaining loudly about his work. The sheer volume felt like physical pressure against his skin, tightening his chest. He gripped the edge of the couch cushion, focusing on Jeongguk’s steady gaze anchoring him. Jeongguk subtly tapped two fingers against his own thigh – *breathe*. Yoongi inhaled slowly, the sharp tang of kimchi-jjigae cutting through the phantom cigarette smoke lingering in his mind. He counted Jeongguk’s taps: one... two... three... four.
Jimin slid onto the couch beside Yoongi, careful to leave space. "Hyung," he murmured, his voice deliberately low and warm, "Hobi brought those almond cookies you liked last time." He nudged a small paper bag onto the cushion between them, the crinkling sound oddly comforting. Yoongi managed a tight nod, his fingers uncurling slightly from the cushion. Across the room, Jeongguk caught his eye again, a silent question in his raised brow. Yoongi shook his head minutely – *not yet*. He could still hear the laughter, still feel the press of bodies in the small space, but Jimin’s quiet presence felt like a buffer.
"Alriiiight guys foods ready come eat my children" Seokjin yelled from the kitchenette. The group migrated towards the small dining table laden with steaming containers. Jeongguk stayed near Yoongi, his shoulder brushing Yoongi's arm as they walked. Taehyung bumped Hoseok's hip playfully, sending a ripple of laughter through the group.
"Hyung, sit here," Jeongguk murmured, pulling out the chair tucked securely into the corner. Yoongi sank into it gratefully, his back pressed firmly against the wall. Jeongguk settled beside him, thigh pressed close. Seokjin began ladling generous portions of kimchi-jjigae into bowls. "Careful, it's hot!" he warned, placing a steaming bowl carefully in front of Yoongi. The rich, spicy aroma filled Yoongi's senses, "Thanks Hyung" Yoongi mumbled softly. Seokjin smiled warmly, "Eat well Yoongi-ah." The steam curled upwards, thick and fragrant, momentarily obscuring Namjoon's face across the table as he reached for the rice.
Taehyung launched into a story about a malfunctioning espresso machine at his café, waving his chopsticks dramatically. "So this tourist lady screams-" he paused, catching Jeongguk's subtle headshake towards Yoongi. Taehyung cleared his throat, lowering his voice. "She screamed... politely? Anyway, free coffee for everyone!" Jimin giggled, nudging Hoseok. Yoongi focused on the warmth seeping from the ceramic bowl into his palms, the comforting weight of Jeongguk's leg against his own. He took a small, deliberate bite of tofu, the soft texture grounding.
Across the table, Namjoon leaned forward, his voice a low, steady rumble that cut through the overlapping chatter without sharpness. "Yoongi-hyung," he said, pushing a small plate of pickled radish slices towards him. "Seokjin-hyung used your favorite chili flakes in the jjigae base." Yoongi met his eyes. He managed a small nod, his fingers relaxing their grip on his spoon.
The conversation flowed around him Hoseok recounting a dance studio mishap involving a rogue yoga ball, Jimin teasing Taehyung about his espresso disaster but Jeongguk’s thumb kept tracing slow, reassuring circles against Yoongi’s thigh beneath the table. When Taehyung’s laughter grew too loud, Jeongguk squeezed Yoongi’s knee lightly. Yoongi exhaled slowly, the spicy warmth of the soup settling in his stomach.
"Thank you guys for coming" Yoongi said in a small voice "I- I know I'm not easy to be around anymore" Jeongguk's hand tightened around Yoongi's thigh under the table, a silent protest. Seokjin waved dismissively, his kimchi-stained spoon hovering mid-air. "Nonsense! We're family. Besides," he added, winking, "who else would endure Taehyung's espresso horror stories?" Taehyung gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "Betrayed! By my own hyung!"
The laughter felt less sharp now, wrapping around Yoongi like the steam from his bowl. He watched Jimin steal a radish slice from Hoseok's plate, their playful bickering familiar. Jeongguk leaned close, his breath warm against Yoongi's ear. "Doing okay?" he whispered. Yoongi nodded, letting his shoulder press fully against Jeongguk's solid frame. "I love you"
Jeongguk grinned, bumping Yoongi's shoulder gently. "Love you more." He snagged a piece of kimchi from Yoongi's bowl with his chopsticks, popping it into his mouth. "Hey!" Yoongi protested weakly, a flicker of genuine annoyance cutting through the lingering tension. Jeongguk just chewed, eyes crinkling.
As the meal wound down, Taehyung started clearing plates with exaggerated efficiency. "Movie time!" he declared, already heading towards the TV cabinet. Jimin followed, pulling Hoseok towards the couch. Seokjin began stacking containers in the kitchenette sink. Jeongguk leaned close again. "Still okay?" Yoongi nodded, watching Namjoon quietly gather discarded napkins.
Taehyung held up a sci-fi action DVD case. "This one?" Jeongguk shook his head subtly. "Hyung's headache," he reminded gently. Taehyung scanned the shelf again, pulling out a nature documentary instead. "Penguins?" he offered brightly. Yoongi gave a small nod of approval.
Jeongguk settled Yoongi onto the couch corner furthest from the hallway, draping the faux-fur blanket over his lap. Jimin sat protectively on his other side, passing him the almond cookies. The opening credits rolled, showcasing icy landscapes and waddling emperor penguins. Their clumsy movements and soft calls were unexpectedly soothing.
"Look at that one," Hoseok whispered, pointing as a penguin slid comically on its belly. Taehyung snorted softly, muffling his laugh in his sleeve. Yoongi found himself tracking the birds' determined journeys across the frozen expanse, the vast, quiet landscape a stark contrast to the cramped apartment.
Halfway through the documentary, Jeongguk felt Yoongi shift beside him. Yoongi’s fingers brushed Jeongguk’s wrist, then tapped twice – their signal. Jeongguk rose smoothly. "Refill anyone?" he asked casually, heading towards the kitchen. Yoongi followed silently, slipping into the hallway. Jeongguk paused at the sink, filling a glass with deliberate slowness, giving Yoongi time to unlock their bedroom door and vanish inside.
Back in the living room, Taehyung muted the TV as Jeongguk returned. "He okay?" Taehyung asked, his usual boisterousness replaced with quiet concern. Jeongguk nodded, setting the water glass down. "Just needed a minute. The noise." Jimin leaned forward, voice hushed. "And... you? Are *you* okay, Gukkie? It must be... difficult." His gaze flickered meaningfully towards the hallway.
Seokjin cleared his throat, stacking empty soju bottles. "The physical stuff... healing okay?" He kept his tone neutral. "And... intimacy? Is he...?" Jeongguk met their worried glances squarely. "His bruises are fading," he stated simply. "The rest... it's on his time. Always." He picked up a discarded napkin. "We talk. We hold hands. He sleeps curled into my side. That's enough." His voice held no resentment, only unwavering certainty.
"Are you sure you're okay with that? I remember you in college and how you guys' relationship was before" Jimin prodded
Jeongguk shrugged, holding his now filled waterglass. "He trusts me. That's the important part." He kept his gaze fixed on the condensation dripping down the glass. "It's not about... what we used to do. It's about what he needs now."
From the hallway, the soft click of the bedroom door unlocking echoed. Jeongguk set the glass down instantly, already moving towards the sound. Yoongi emerged, looking drained but steadier, his eyes finding Jeongguk immediately. "Penguins?" he asked softly.
"They're building nests," Jeongguk replied, guiding him back to the couch corner Jimin had vacated. Yoongi sank into the cushions, pulling the fur blanket tight. Taehyung unmuted the TV just as a chick pecked its way out of its shell, wobbling on unsteady feet. Hoseok whispered, "Look at the little fighter," nudging Yoongi gently. Yoongi watched the chick stumble, then right itself, a flicker of something warm in his tired eyes.
The guests left quietly hours later, hugs brief and voices hushed. Jeongguk locked the apartment door behind them, the deadbolt’s solid *thunk* echoing in the sudden stillness. He found Yoongi already in their bedroom, sitting stiffly on the edge of the bed, staring at the newly installed brass chain lock gleaming dully in the low lamplight. Jeongguk slid the chain into place himself. "Extra security," he murmured, turning off the lamp. Only moonlight illuminated the room as he climbed in beside Yoongi.
Yoongi didn’t lie down immediately. He sat hunched forward, elbows on knees, fingers digging into his own scalp. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable, broken only by the distant rumble of a garbage truck navigating the alley below. Jeongguk waited, watching the tense line of Yoongi’s shoulders. "Talk to me," he finally whispered, his voice barely disturbing the quiet. "What hurts?"
"Everything," Yoongi rasped, the word cracking. He lifted his head, moonlight catching the wet tracks on his cheeks. "Not... not my body. Not anymore." He gestured vaguely towards his chest, his throat. "Inside. I feel... shattered. Like someone dropped me and glued me back wrong." He swallowed hard, staring at his own trembling hands. "Defective merchandise. That’s what he called me. And he wasn’t wrong, Gguk. Look at me." His laugh was a harsh, broken sound. "Can’t even eat dinner with our friends without needing an escape hatch."
Jeongguk shifted closer, his warmth radiating against Yoongi’s side. He didn’t pull Yoongi in yet, just let his shoulder press firmly against Yoongi’s. "You think broken things don’t deserve care?" His voice was low, steady. "When my old phone screen spiderwebbed, I didn’t throw it out. I got it fixed because it still worked." He paused, letting the simplicity sink in. "You’re healing, hyung. Not defective. Healing takes time, and it’s messy. And I’m not going anywhere."
Yoongi wiped his cheeks roughly with the heel of his hand. "It’s not fair to you," he whispered, the words thick. "You deserve... normal. Dates. Parties. Sex." He flinched at the last word, the phantom grip on his wrist tightening. "Not... this." He gestured vaguely at the locked door, the chain, the silence.
Jeongguk turned fully towards him, the mattress dipping. "Hyung..." Jeongguk looked his lover in the eyes "You're everything I want in life. I don't care about those things" He reached out, tracing the fragile skin beneath Yoongi’s eye. His thumb brushed Yoongi’s cheekbone. "And sex?" Jeongguk’s voice dropped, impossibly gentle. "That’s just... icing. You’re the cake, hyung. The whole damn bakery." He smiled faintly. "And I happen to really like cake."
Yoongi stared at him, the moonlight etching Jeongguk’s earnest profile in silver. "But... what if I'm never... fixed?" The word tasted sour. "What if I'm always this... re-constricted?" He gestured at his own chest again, the invisible cage.
Jeongguk didn't hesitate. He took Yoongi's trembling hand, pressing it flat against his own chest, right over his steady heartbeat. "Then you're my re-constricted," he said firmly, holding Yoongi's gaze. "You're still Yoongi. The one who writes lyrics that make me cry, who steals my fries, who hates mornings. That's who I love. Not some idea of 'fixed'." His thumb rubbed circles on the back of Yoongi's hand. "You're not a problem to solve, hyung. You're my person."
Yoongi stared at their joined hands, the frantic drumming in his own chest slowly syncing with Jeongguk's calm rhythm. The phantom cigarette smell vanished completely, replaced by the familiar laundry scent and Jeongguk's skin. He leaned forward, forehead resting against Jeongguk's shoulder. "Okay," he whispered. "Okay."
The next morning, Jeongguk woke to find Yoongi already dressed, staring out the window at the rain-slicked street below. "Walk with me?" Yoongi asked quietly, without turning. Jeongguk scrambled out of bed, pulling on sweatpants. They moved through the quiet apartment, Yoongi pausing only to slide the brass chain lock open himself. Outside, the cool air felt sharp against Yoongi's skin as they walked side-by-side down the damp sidewalk, Jeongguk matching his slow pace without comment.
At the corner market, Yoongi stopped before a display of sugar peas, their vibrant green pods glistening under fluorescent lights. "We should cook tonight," he murmured, picking up a basket. "Properly cook." Jeongguk watched him select vegetables with careful deliberation carrots, onions, a bundle of spinach. "I'll peel," Jeongguk offered, taking the basket as Yoongi added a small jar of sesame oil. The cashier hummed while ringing them up, oblivious to how Yoongi kept one hand pressed flat against Jeongguk's back, grounding himself in the mundane rhythm of beeping scanners and crumpling paper bags.
Back in their kitchen, Jeongguk diced onions while Yoongi washed spinach, the running water a steady hiss beneath their silence. "Remember that awful stir-fry disaster sophomore year?" Jeongguk asked suddenly, grinning as he scraped onions into sizzling oil. "You swore the smoke detector was your personal nemesis." Yoongi's shoulders loosened incrementally. "It was," he conceded, handing Jeongguk the spinach. "You ate it anyway." Jeongguk tossed the greens into the pan. "Best charcoal-flavored tofu I ever had." The shared laughter felt like sunlight breaking through clouds.
Maybe things would be okay after all