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I Promise

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Yoongi woke up to what he assumed would be a day just like any other. He raises his head up from his desk, groaning at the pain in his neck and back as he realises that he had fallen asleep in his studio at his desk - again. It was really a habit that he had to break he noted as he slowly stood up as he put his hands on his lower back and puffed out his chest in an effort to remove loosen up some of the knots in his spine. His entire soul and being begging him to sit back down, preferably even lie down, on a soft bed instead of being forced to endure the pain in the morning when he wakes. Yoongi moves his head softly from side to side, wincing in pain each time he tilts his head, cursing himself for being greedy with his producing again. Producing, believe it or not, despite the hours of tedious work; just to sometimes only get thirty seconds of a song completed, was his source of validation. His sign that he was doing something for other people, even if it means punishing himself and his body whilst doing so. Even just creating thirty seconds was satisfying to him, reminding him that he is doing something good with his time alive, although it may make him frustrated from time to time when his brain blocks his thoughts from being recorded on his computer, limiting the amount of work he gets done. His body forcing himself to take care of it, even at the most inconvenient of times.
“Stupid body, you know I can’t take an off day,” he grumbles as he picks up his body from the back of his chair and saves his progress into his private files and he prepares to leave for the dorm. He looks at his phone and takes it off do not disturb; “look, I can’t afford to have distractions when I finally start getting into a song, you know that.” as he has tried to justify to Namjoon many times before, and sighs as he sees multiple missed calls and texts from his dongsaengs and his hyung. He sees 18 missed calls in total, not surprised that the majority of them are from Namjoon, probably calling to try and convince him to come back to the dorm instead of working all night, on the off chance that Yoongi had forgotten to enable do not disturb mode, although he knows Yoongi never does. He then moves onto his texts messages and skims through the threads of unread messages. There are plenty from Seokjin, attempting to use his authority as his hyung to demand that he comes home, but quickly gives up knowing that Yoongi will either not see them, or ignore them and so instead tells him to make sure that he is looking after himself at the studio. Similar to his call log, there are many messages from Namjoon telling him that he shouldn’t be overworking himself again and that he should come back to the dorm, knowing that his hyung will not have eaten or had anything to drink since leaving for the studio the previous morning. Namjoon worries too much, Yoongi thinks to himself, although not overlooking how much Namjoon, as well as the others truly care for him. He does feel bad sometimes, for making them worry and have to watch out for him to make sure that he keeps himself alive. He’s a grown adult, able to make difficult choices and manage his wealth effectively but seemingly unable to even look after himself properly. But, he would gladly wither away if it meant giving his group something to create hope and happiness out of. He scrolls through his message threads and sees messages from Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook asking whether or not he is going to come home, asking about the progress of his projects, asking him if he is okay. He’s proud of them, the three youngest stepping up to take care of their hyung, although the pride is accompanied with a twinge of guilt that sits heavily in the bottom of his heart when he thinks about it deeper. The youngest three, having to look after their hyung when it should be the other way around. Yoongi feels disappointed in himself sometimes, wonders if whether he is doing the right thing since he only ever seems to make his best friends worry about him. His greed for producing and receiving validation from his group and his fans whilst completely neglecting to look after himself, instead pushing the job onto someone else who doesn’t deserve that pressure. He is disappointed. That guilt sinks further to the bottom of his stomach when he looks to the last thread of messages. It coats the lining of his stomach and makes his heart clench when he sees the name and the number twelve next to it. He scrolls through the messages, taking care to read each, word for word. His guilt getting heavier with each. Let’s just say he’s done this one too many times. Left the others without any word, without telling them if he is okay, or coming home, or feeding himself, or if he is even alive. He could perish in his studio and the others might not even know until someone gets worried enough to the point of coming to visit him, despite knowing the lecture they will more than likely receive from an annoyed, sleep-deprived zombie. It hurts to know he does this to his bandmates but hurts more to know that he does it to the one person that deserves it the least, that makes his life better and makes him feel more alive. To the sun in his life and the one who gives him energy and warmth and the validation that he so desperately seeks. It is true. He has done this one too many times. He feels breathless as he reads the emotion in his messages. Worrying about him, asking him if he is alive and if he has eaten or slept. If he is coming home, begging him to come home. Telling him that he doesn’t need to work like this, that it is unhealthy for him and that everyone misses him - that he misses him. His chest constricts more and more to the point where Yoongi is wondering if he is even breathing any more when he reads the sender’s final message before they ultimately gave up.
‘Come home hyung, I hate it when you do this. You don’t need to, please just come home. Look after yourself, hell, let me look after you if you won’t. You’re killing yourself in that studio and you’re the only one that can’t see it. Either that or you just don’t want to acknowledge it. I need to know you’re okay hyung, please, just send anything. I need to know you’re okay. I need you.’ Yoongi gives one final look around his studio and realises it. He is killing himself in here. Slowly but surely. He hasn’t eaten properly in days, hasn’t had anything to drink since the previous morning, hasn’t slept properly in months, convincing himself he’ll be ‘one more hour’. Although it is validation he seeks, it is hurt and worry that he receives. And all with good reason.

Yoongi quietly closes the door to the dorm behind him, praying that the others are still asleep, with it being their day off and still relatively early in the morning. He can’t bear to see them, their faces full of worry and disappointment. He’ll make it up to them later, promise to change, he thinks to himself. He slips his shoes off at the door and creeps across the wooden flooring into the living room, en route to his bedroom. He makes it halfway across the room before a mass arises from the couch, not even noticing it there beforehand. “Hyung.” The one word makes Yoongi freeze up, the deep tone of the voice immediately alerting him as to who was there. His heart beats faster, partially due to being caught and partially due to the fact that the one that had caught him was the one that he wanted to hurt the least. He slowly raises his head to meet another set of eyes. The owner standing up and taking the few steps necessary to be stood right in front of him. Yoongi raises his eyes a little away from the thin tips of the other, in order to account for the slight height difference between the two. He meets the males eyes once more and instead of seeing the usual excitement and wonder and hope, instead sees hurt and tiredness, accompanied by the dark bags hanging below his eyes. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself hyung, you’re hurting yourself and it hurts me to see you this way. I want you alive and healthy hyung don’t you understand that. I know music and producing is important to you, hell, more than important but killing yourself isn’t going to create anything more after you leave us here. Alone without you.” He gets louder and more frantic as he talks, letting out god knows how many days, weeks, months maybe of pent-up emotion until finally, he stops. His chest rises and falls before him, his hands shake as tears start to line his eyes and Yoongi feels the pit of his stomach fill up with guilt again, witnessing first-hand the pain that he has put the other through, and yet he continues. “Why do you keep doing this hyung. It hurts you. I care about you, so much, and it kills me to see how you pressure yourself and how you overwork yourself. How you constantly think everything you’re doing isn’t good enough when you’re too clouded with doubt to see that it’s more than enough. Please. Just stop killing yourself. Look after yourself. You deserve to live a life that’s healthier than the one you’re living now. I can’t do this without you Yoongi.” The other shakily breathes out, purposely dropping the honorifics at the end as if to solidify the seriousness of what he had just said. Although it wasn’t needed. Yoongi had felt every hit of emotion throughout the time the taller man was speaking, seeing the once crystalline looking drops merging together on his cheeks to form one continuous river. The tears then start to flow down his own face as he reaches forward and takes the shaking hands of his sunshine in front of him.
“I’m going to change. I promise. I promise you. I am so sorry.” Yoongi only manages to choke out short, few worded sentences at a time whereas his mind was racing, filled with so many things that he wants to say. Almost like when he gets completely focused on a project. Maybe, making it up to his sunshine could be his new project he thinks. He whimpers softly, letting down all of his walls in the presence of the younger. His sunshine, his saviour, let’s go of his hands and instead pulls his head so that it is resting on his chest. Strong arms encompass his shoulders and a hand threads itself through his hair, stroking the strands comfortingly as he just holds a sobbing, now shaking Yoongi is his arms. Yoongi wraps his arms around the man, the lighthouse of his life, the rock, the final threads holding him together and just cries. Yoongi is so grateful for the people in his life, for the ones that care and ensure that he is safe and want nothing but the best for him. Even if at times he thinks he doesn’t deserve them for everything that he puts them through. He is nothing if not appreciative. Yoongi lets everything out, also promising to himself to change, to start looking after himself and to start living again. He promises, to himself, and to his sunshine. He grips the taller harder in his arms, afraid to ever let go, afraid that the taller will leave him for good after this, afraid of what will happen next. But not afraid to keep his promise.
“I love you Hoseok.”