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The first thing Yoongi thought when he woke up that morning was that he wanted to go back to sleep. Not because he wasn't well rested, he actually got a good, healthy nine hours of sleep that night, but he was still tired. The kind of tired that went beyond the occasional yawn and heavy eyelids. It was a kind of tired that he felt in deep in the marrow of his bones, the kind of tired that pressed hard against his skull. The kind of tired he was all too well versed with.
He sighed. It was one of those days.
Squinting his eyes against the sun that peaked through the curtain into his dorm room, he prepared himself to get up. Seokjin's soft snores tickled his ears as he flung the covers off of himself, and waddled on shaky legs over to the older's bed. He was even more handsome when he was asleep, the soft plump curves of his mouth relaxed and Yoongi almost felt bad that he was about to wake him up, but he knew Seokjin would be even more angry if he broke their deal.
He places a gentle hand on his shoulder (really, he was too exhausted to do anything more) and shakes him. Seokjin stirs for about two seconds before slowly opening his eyes. He rubs them, and blinks.
"Hi, do you need something?" he asks groggily, blinking and rubbing his eyes a few more times.
Yoongi takes a small breath. "Peach," he whispers.
Seokjin freezes, and in the next second he's out of bed, guiding Yoongi by the wrist back to his own where he lays him down, and tucks him under the covers like his parents used to when he was a kid. Before things got bad.
"Stay here, I'll be back in about half an hour," Seokjin said, pressing a small kiss to his forehead and then leaving the room.
Yoongi never liked explicitly talking about his feelings verbally. Something about it made him feel too exposed and vulnerable to people who didn't really care. He got into the habit of bottling things up instead, letting everything fester and ferment in his belly until one day it became too much and everything bottled up spilled over, the same day Hoseok found him curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor in just his underwear, shaking and bawling his eyes out.
Since then, they developed code words so Yoongi could tell the other members how he was feeling that day without having to delve into all the ugly details. It's been pretty effective, so far.
The smell of sweets wafted in under the door from the kitchen. Yoongi curled himself under his navy blue blankets, letting the warmness of them surround him, comfort him before the door clicked, and Taehyung was tiptoeing into his room.
"Hey, hyung," he said with a small smile.
"Hi, Taehyung-ah," he replied from under the blankets.
Taehyung didn't say anything after that, only walked toward him and lifted Yoongi's covers to invite himself into his bed and pulled Yoongi's small body against his massive one, wrapping himself around Yoongi like a koala.
It's common knowledge in the dorm that Taehyung was the best cuddler. He's warm, and surprisingly soft, and Yoongi knows Seokjin probably told the rest of the boys that he was having one of his bad days and sent Taehyung to keep him company, so he snuggled into him while Taehyung patted his hair. They stay like that until Seokjin comes in with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk in hand. Taehyung takes his leave, but not before whispering "You'll be okay," in his ear.
The door closes behind Taehyung, and Seokjin sets the plate of cookies down on the table beside him on his night stand.
"Do you want me to stay or do you want to be by yourself?" he asks gently.
Yoongi ponders for a second. "By myself."
"Okay," Seokjin nods. "If you need anything or anyone, text me or Namjoon."
He leaves quietly, and Yoongi decides to take this time to go through his phone. His mixtape dropped last night, and he doesn't want to say he's avoiding reading the responses, but he's avoiding reading the responses. He put his blood, sweat, and tears, his whole heart and soul, every thought, every memory, his story into his mixtape. What if the fans didn't like it? He doesn't know what he'd do.
Nervously, he opens the twitter app, and is immediately bombarded with messages. Some in Korean, some in Japanese or Chinese, most in English and a few in languages he didn't recognize. He had to rack his brain, but from the few English and Japanese words and phrases he knew, like "I love you," or "so proud," he could piece together what was being said.
He smiled softly to himself, tears pricking behind his eyes and threatening to spill over as his body was doused in the warm feeling of relief. And love. In his mixtape, he shared many of his personal stories with them, some things he hadn't even told friends he's had for years, but he did that because he loves them. He loves them with all of his heart and seeing how much they love him back, still, was nothing short of surreal.
He stayed in bed for the rest of the day, thanking his brain for at least having the decency to pick a day where they didn't have any schedules to pollute his head with self deprecating thoughts. His bed was his safe place. The place where he could let himself relax, and not worry about anything. Not his insecurities. Not his doubts. Not his fears. He could just be lazy for a bit.
"Lazy." Right.
Hoseok stopped by some time around mid day with more cookies (Yoongi finished the original batch in ten minutes) but he didn't leave him immediately. Instead he talked to him about nothing, yet also everything, but Yoongi didn't mind. Hoseok was always able to lift Yoongi's spirits just from smiling.
Jimin and Jungkook spent the day blowing up his phone with silly pictures they found on the internet. Jungkook said they were called "memes," or something. He doesn't really care what they were called, as long as they made him laugh for a good second and forget that he was currently feeling like shit.
Because he ended up staying in his room all day, Seokjin brought him the food from lunch and dinner to their room, but Yoongi knew the elder didn't mind.
At night, when his eyelids are falling heavy again and his yawns were becoming more frequent, he hears the door click, and Yoongi turns his head expecting to see Seokjin with a snack but instead, he sees Namjoon. He smiles at Yoongi slightly before grabbing the chair from his desk and swings it over to the bed. He sits down and extends his hand, and Yoongi only just realizes he's carrying a fruit tart.
"Seokjin told me to bring this too you," he said, and Yoongi smiles, knowing damn well Namjoon probably saw Seokjin on his way to here and asked him if he could take it to him instead, but he didn't call him out on it. He takes the tart, and starts ripping it into smaller chunks with his fingers.
"How ya feeling, Yoongi?" he asks, dropping honorifics.
Yoongi chews slowly as he mulls over the question. "Orange," he says.
"That's good. I'm glad your feeling better."
Yoongi nods, and goes back to eating the tart. The thing about he and Namjoon's relationship was that they could have a full conversation and say nothing at all, so this was fine. The quiet was fine.
Namjoon waited until Yoongi was finished the tart to speak again. "It was posted last night."
"I know."
"They love it."
"I saw."
A couple beats of silence. Namjoon licks his lips. "I'm really proud of you, you know. What you did, sharing your personal stories like that, it took a lot of guts."
Yoongi suddenly wishes he had the fruit tart still to keep his hands busy with something as his bottom lip trembles.
"I wouldn't have been able to if it weren't for you guys," he responds, struggling to keep his voice even.
Namjoon gets up from the chair to sit next Yoongi on his bed, and wraps his arms around his shoulders. "We love you," Namjoon barely whispered. Yoongi lets his tears fall.
Seokjin is standing on the other side of the door when Namjoon leaves, not caring that he was shamelessly eavesdropping and comes up next to Yoongi's bed.
"Good?" he asks.
"Good," Yoongi responds.
Seokjin ruffles his hair, and tucks him in again like he did that morning.
"Sleep tight," he says, his breath tickling Yoongi's face.
He watches Seokjin turn the lights off and change into pajamas, and then settle into his bed, thinking how lucky he is to have him in his life. To have all of them in his life, actually. From Taehyung, Jimin and Hoseok's sunny dispositions, to Jungkook and his unique way of making him fond of his brattiness, to Namjoon who he's known for years and wouldn't be able to function without at this point, and to Seokjin, who takes care of all of them unconditionally, no questions asked.
And as he's falling asleep, his last thought was that as long as he had them, his family, the fans, that he might be okay.
He'll be okay.