Yoongi can’t stop staring at it.
With the sun shining like silver sparks on the surface dancing to the rhythm of the soft waves, it looks so enticing, so beautiful. The vibrant deep blue extends beyond Yoongi’s eyes can see, unmeasurable, so humbling and proud. So alive and full of spirit. Giving generously, yet hiding a powerful, cruel rage that can take away just as much.
It reminds Yoongi of him.
He also wrapped Yoongi in his charms. He also felt vast as if he was Yoongi’s entire world. He flooded him with life and love. Jimin made Yoongi so enamored, he got himself in way over his head, in a way he couldn’t escape the inevitable end. He let Jimin tear him apart, break him like a hollow shell on a rocky shore, mercilessly.
Under the ever-present drowsiness in his body, Yoongi feels anger brewing. Bitter, scorching, breaking through the fog in his head. He’s angry, because… he can’t even be angry. This heartbreak is solely on him.
It was obvious from the beginning. Yoongi was never meant to have him, he always knew to whom Jimin belonged. Still, Yoongi feels like a fool, because deep inside he had a little bit of hope, a stupid wish. He thought maybe, although everything, Jimin would choose him.
Pathetic, he thinks now. He saw the sea as his enemy, when there was never even a competition. What did Yoongi have to offer against the sea? The sea, Jimin’s freedom. Yet in that last second, he wished he had the means to win Jimin over.
As if the merman was a trophy, there for the taking. There to keep. To tie.
A bubble of self-hatred blurts from the pit of his stomach and floats up until it gets stuck in his throat, turning into a tight knot. He tries to draw air into his lungs through it but has little success.
His feeling of defeat is pure selfishness. If he claims to love Jimin as much as he does, he should be happy he’s finally free, that he’s finally back where he belongs, where he never should have been taken from.
The knot grows bigger, threatening with tearing his throat apart. Yoongi has some sense of self-preservation and looks away from the sea on the other side of the window. That big ass window that covers almost an entire wall of the room.
Yet he’s only a man. He can’t help to mourn the loss of the best thing that ever happened to him. So what if Jimin was never meant to be his? So what if it’s better off this way?
Fair or unfair, his heart is broken, he can’t just ignore it.
The breath stuck in his throat comes out shakily. His brain finally makes sense of what his eyes has been staring at blindly: two flawless fake passports that implied too much, another jab to Yoongi’s crumbled dreams.
The lump is his throat melts, spreading on the inside of his chest.
It has always been so hard for him to feel anything but diluted echoes, yet sorrow is one of the few emotions he never misses, especially when it’s flooding him whole like right now, tinting the fog with its acrid smell, drowning him.
He would give anything to go back to that time when nothing got to him, when his heart was numb, and he lived his life without a care in the world.
A pinch of panic courses through him.
That would mean never having met Jimin…
A tiny gasp escapes his lips, and he closes his eyes feeling stupid.
Well, so fucking be it. He was never this weak before.
The anger starts sizzling again. It’s like a shock of electricity. His body moves before he can even register his intentions. He grabs the chair at his side and with all the strength he can muster, he throws it at the window.
For a second nothing happens, and Yoongi almost laughs at how pathetic that is, but then the glass cracks and breaks like a waterfall.
He feels his anger break just like the glass, leaving him empty. He falls to his knees over the broken pieces, his head hanging between shaky arms holding him up. He can’t really feel his hands getting hurt, but the sight of blood staining the crystal it’s oddly satisfying, like a material evidence of the pain in his chest.
It’s been a week since Jimin left, and for the first time his eyes swell up with tears and a broken sob tears his throat.
As a half sandman, Yoongi is a creature with a foot in both Realms.
Pure sandmen live entirely in the Dream Realm and don’t have physical forms, but since Yoongi’s mother was a magic-user, he was born into the material world, into a body to which he’s chained until the day he dies. This sort of limbo existence is very problematic. Yoongi would like to say that he has the best of both worlds, but to be honest… nah.
When he’s awake, he’s forever sleepy. His brain is full of fog, any task takes him double the time than a normal person to process and execute. He can’t feel his body properly, everything in his mouth is insipid, and only the strongest of smells are caught by his nose. Sight and hearing are the only senses that work decently, but his reactions are so slow that it doesn’t make much difference. If that wasn’t enough, he’s sometimes claimed by the Dream Realm at any time or place, his body shuts down and he stays in a drift off state until he’s pulled farther and farther away.
In normal circumstances, when he closes his eyes is when he really starts living. In the Dream Realm he’s more than just a shadow of a person. He’s fully awake, and he can be in total control.
Usually, people enter the Dream Realm and their subconscious shape it into forms and situations out of their reins. In Yoongi’s case, he is the coachman.
The Dream Realm is a very peculiar, quite complex place. Well, Yoongi conceives it as a state more than a place. For him, who has the power to be aware of being there, it’s like floating in the infinite, he’s one with it, everything and nothing at the same time. The Dream Realm is a state of pure conscience, without forms. For most it’s incomprehensible, that’s why the brain diverts itself with dreams. When Yoongi falls asleep he has no option but to float adrift in that ocean where every person’s dream is a port into their heads. Yoongi can travel them all, and also craft them at will: dreams are malleable in his hands like sand castles.
There’s a rush in it, too. The reaction of the dreamer towards the scenery Yoongi creates moves an energy that fuels Yoongi’s magic. But more than anything, he gets high on the beauty of the infinite possibilities beyond the bounds of reality.
It was freedom. For him, a creature trapped in his own body, the Dream Realm was freedom. And he always chased it without a care. That freedom meant everything to him, it was the only thing he had.
Not anymore, though.
He’s been sentenced to a lifetime in the most feared prison in the whole East, his magic has been tied and his connection to the Dream Realm broken.
Now there’s nowhere to go. There’s nothing.
Yoongi could have never predicted this outcome.
At first, the situations that lead him to this fate were a turn for the best. If he had known what it would bring him… Well, he would have done it anyway, it’s not like he had a choice. He hadn’t had it easy.
When Yoongi was a kid and his mother was around, she took good care of him. She called him her little miracle and pampered him with love. He went to find her in her dreams every night, and the two of them played together in beautiful, surreal sceneries out of Yoongi’s childlike imagination. But then, he couldn’t find her anymore. She died young like every half sandman’s mother.
At eleven, Yoongi had to wake up to a cruel reality and learn how to live on his own. He had no other family, so he was taken by social services, and it was hell.
Everyone was angry and ready to snap. No one had patience for him, they didn’t understand why Yoongi couldn’t answer as they expected him to. They had their own troubles to care about, their own pain. At night, Yoongi was drown by the despair in the dreams of everyone around him. He was too weak to help them, he was too sad, too beaten, he became mean. The anger seeped inside him, and he let it take control, pouring it over those who had no mercy with him while awake, he found strength in their terror.
In the end, they kicked him out. The people in charge as well as all the other kids feared him, so he couldn’t stay anymore. No one cared much, no one was going to look into it too deeply. He was a magical being, so he could magically survive on his own.
And he survived, but there was nothing of magical in it.
Yoongi’s life in the streets was better and worse.
There was no one pushing him around, and that was good, but he had to provide for himself and it was almost impossible for him, a being that could barely stay awake. He wasn’t picky, though. If it was to keep his stomach relatively full, he didn’t mind curbing through garbage. If he had nothing to cover himself at night but cartons and plastic bags, it was all the same. As long as his heart kept beating, he would be able to let himself go in dreams. Serve himself a feast or become raging fire, fly through the sky as a bird or lie under the sun in a peaceful meadow. He would be able to forget about the Yoongi out there lying on the hard floor, cold to the bone, and with an aching heart.
He tried to convince himself that it was enough, but he knew that in those conditions, he wouldn’t survive for long. So, he started to put more attention. He tried to stay awake as much as possible to see what others did.
There were many people on the streets, most of them young and mixed like Yoongi himself. Many relied on people’s mercy, some others were more resourceful. The easier path was to engage in some sort of illicit activity, or work for shady people, they were always looking for eyes and ears, but both were things Yoongi couldn’t do. Or at least not like others did. Most of them used the little magic they had, but Yoongi’s magic was useless in the material plane of existence. Or so he thought.
Kids learn how to use their magic in school, and Yoongi never went to school. His mother taught him all he needed to know but died before she could teach him any magic. Yoongi wouldn’t let it be, though, he used what he had.
He looked around in the Dream Realm for someone who could teach him how to use his magic for his benefit. Unfortunately, no one knew much about sandmen. In fact, most people knew they existed, but back then, Yoongi couldn’t find anyone who could tell him much more.
Well, except for the sandmen themselves. But Yoongi had learned already that the sandmen were not to trust, it was better to stay away from them.
Still, he didn’t give up his search, and in the meantime, he trained himself for the world.
In the safety of the Dream Realm, he repeated the day he had just lived and recreated the situations he hadn’t been able to handle properly. He explored the options he had had in an environment where he was in control, where he could actually be him. Smarter, faster, stronger. Capable. And not just a shadow of what he was.
So, he made many “protocols”, patterns of action stocked for future reference. As time passed, this error-trial method gave results. He was still slow, but he was prepared for a lot of scenarios, and that helped him react in time.
In the end, the awakening of his magic was an accident.
He stayed mostly out of trouble, he tried to avoid other people and keep to himself, but sometimes he fell asleep in places and woke up into the trouble. He can wake up at will as easily as he can drift off, but whenever his body shuts down on its own, he can’t emerge from the slumber as he pleases. He has to wait until his body is ready to wake up.
That’s how he once woke up to someone shaking him, hitting his face, yelling madly. It wasn’t the first time. Part of him got scared, but a bigger part of him just got really pissed. He remembers that day being particularly shitty, so he didn’t want to deal with dumb people anymore. He got fed up, he just yelled at them to stop, and just like that, he was dropped to the ground. When he could finally make sense of his surroundings, he saw the cloud of fine, golden dust hanging in the air.
He’d heard some about sandmen’s dream dust, but he’d thought it was bullshit or some myth created around sandmen, because he’d never seen it, even less produced it.
But then there it was: shining and making five adult men fall asleep like logs.
It took him a while to figure out how to do it, but when Yoongi mastered it, every door was open for him.
Sometimes he walked into a restaurant, sprinkled some dream dust into whoever was in the way and helped himself a proper meal. Sometimes he broke into a house and left the dust hanging in the air, so when anyone entered, they went directly to bed, with one foot already in the Dream Realm and without noticing the boy sleeping in their couch. He then would visit that person in their dream and made sure to give them a good one, in full colors and very vivid. Sometimes Yoongi even let them stay the whole night and the next day in their favorite fantasy, so he didn’t have to leave the house in a storm or when it was snowing.
Yoongi was free and not only in the Dream Realm. It was failproof, no one could touch him anymore, because even when he was asleep, he could leave a thin layer of dust around him so there were no more surprises. But, of course, eventually, it failed.
He ran across someone who didn’t fall into his trick: Suran.
In theory, there’s no being immune to Yoongi’s dust, mostly because sandmen are rare and no one expects to be attacked by one in broad daylight, but Suran wasn’t an ordinary witch. She was a very powerful and paranoid one. She said she had her reasons to be on full alert at any time and protected from anyone and anything that might come to get her.
She stopped him right on his tracks and held his life in her hands until he explained who he was, and which were his intentions. That took him a while, but she had the patience of power, he wasn’t really a threat to her. Actually, she was amused by the young sandman who had no idea who he had tried to trick.
Instead of killing him, she took him in. In exchange of his own room and food on his plate every day, she asked him simple favors. “You work with me now,” she said.
In the beginning, the tasks were harmless: find out what’s on their head, make sure they know some information, provide a safe meeting. Eventually, the favors became more compromising: put them in a slumber until I come back, give them a sweet dream so they are in a good mood in the morning, convince them of this particular idea, scare this idiot to death.
She never told him the whys and he never asked. Yoongi did what he was told, because it didn’t seem like much. It was a job, he had to do what he had to do. And besides, when he did well, Suran was really nice with him. Yoongi missed kindness and he missed having someone who cared whether he lived or died, whatever the reason.
It seemed like a turn for the best. In fifteen-years-old Yoongi’s opinion, there were only pros. He was out of the street, he was earning his own stuff. Sure, he wasn’t allowed to quit, and some of the things he was asked to do left him with a heavy feeling, but it was little sacrifice for security.
For almost ten years he lived like that. He worked for Suran and kept his conscience’s eyes closed. Yoongi never found a connection between every mission, and never knew about the consequences of his actions. He knew most of it wasn’t good nor legal, but he didn’t care really, he only saw the big picture and felt the weight of what he had done when he was sitting in court and the judge was reading his charges.
Yoongi then realized he was nothing but a tool in Suran’s belt. A precious tool, but a tool after all. He never anticipated he would be discarded as such.
Suran was a powerful witch, but she wasn’t a big player. She planned big, though, and Yoongi helped her climb up, but when they began to draw too much attention, Suran gave him away as bail to stay in the game. She popped out of the picture and into the shadows again, leaving Yoongi to pay for their crimes.
It could be worse, though.
The Well is obviously not pleasant, but Yoongi wasn’t expecting it to be. It reminds him of the sewers: a big pipe full of holes for the rats. Yeah, they would be the rats.
Their cell is open to the central pipe, a cylinder taller than a fifteen stores building, closed at the top except for a tiny hole at the center of the ceiling, and flooded at the bottom. It’s… well, like a well, not much originality for the name. Their cell, a rectangular hole without bars carved into the central pipe, is around the middle, so looking up and down makes Yoongi dizzy.
So far, The Well is not as bad as everybody likes to gush about. There are no guards, they’re fed once a day, there are futons for them to sleep, it’s dark and quiet, relatively clean, not really cold. It’s not that terrible, Yoongi thinks it could be so much worse.
But then again, there’s nothing to do and nowhere to go. Their magic is restrained, which sucks a whole lot. Oh, and… his cellmates are annoying.
Okay, he knows that that could be so much worse too, like he could have been locked with psychopaths or whatnot, but still.
Yoongi can’t decide who’s worst. It’s a very close tie between Seokjin and Hoseok. Namjoon is alright, he leaves Yoongi alone most of the time, not like the other two idiots who are always poking him and trying to make him participate in their conversations and stupid games.
In Yoongi’s opinion, they are too happy, too friendly. They’re in prison, for fuck’s sake. And in The Well of all. Everyone knows The Well is a dead end. If you’re sent here, you’re in it for life. No one gets out. It’s just a matter of enduring it or making up your mind to put an end to it.
Not for his cellmates, though, they seem oblivious of their fate.
But, it was different at the beginning.
Yoongi, Hoseok, and Namjoon arrived together and it was only them for a while.
The three of them stayed silent for a day or so, clearly in shock. Hoseok and Namjoon sat on the stone floor, dumbstruck and motionless. Yoongi slept, but with his magic locked, he stayed in the blank space that were his no-dreams, haunted by turbulent feelings. He tried to stay indifferent, but he was worried. He’d never found himself in such a cornered situation. There was no way to sneak out of this one.
There was only one option and for that day or so, both his cellmates seemed to be considering it: jump down, end it all.
For Yoongi, it was inconceivable. He was a survivor. He could’ve taken that road years ago, but he didn’t, he couldn’t. Then, there was always the chance of another dream, and now, even though there’s no hope… Well, he’s still working on that, but killing himself has never been an option for him, even in those desperate first hours. And in this prison, they’ve realized, it’s just that or let time do the job. In any case, it’s an irredeemable situation, and his cellmates seemed like they were being devoured by that.
Then, for whatever reason, Namjoon moved. He crawled towards the food that manifests in their cell once a day and said hi to Yoongi.
It was awkward, and Yoongi didn’t understand why he bothered, but then the other guy, Hoseok, was walking to the border, eyes clouded, hopeless. He was going to jump, and Yoongi thought it couldn’t be. He got in his way and stopped him. He did it before he could even think about it. Why he bothered, Yoongi still wonders, but it felt right.
Looking back, it’s like they’d made an agreement then. Yoongi doesn’t know exactly what it is that they agreed to, but it helped them snap out of that spell their first impression of The Well had put them on.
Seokjin had come down the cell above theirs somehow later on, and then the circus began.
Yoongi would be lying if he said that they have never pulled a smile out of him. After years on the streets and even more years in the heads of truly evil people, Yoongi became really good at judging characters just by tiny gestures and attitudes. His three cellmates are mostly good people who made a lot of terrible mistakes. They’re not ill intended, but hell be damned if they aren’t taking the situation with the gravity it demands.
Their attitude annoys Yoongi almost as much as it puzzles him.
After seeing them in their most hopeless moment, he can’t understand where their strength is coming from. He feels in disadvantage. They’re able to ignore their fate and keep their spirits up.
Seokjin has been locked for months and he’s as peppy as a boy scout, Hoseok had been determined to jump and now he laughs like there’s no tomorrow. Namjoon is soberer, but he seems to have his shit together. Yoongi can’t. He’s growing more desperate by the day, and he works hard to hide it. His survival has always depended on how well he can pretend to be in control. So, he puts on a poker face, he brushes it off his shoulder, he acts indifferent, he even lies and tells the others he can still dream, that he’s alright, that this doesn’t affect him.
It’s bullshit, but Yoongi doesn’t want to be the first to break.
As time goes by, it occurs to Yoongi that he may have judged too soon.
It’s been a couple of weeks already, and for some reason sleep doesn’t drag him down all the time now. So, in his awake time, he has started paying more attention to the only thing interesting enough in this damn place: his cellmates. He’s figuring them out, and his first conclusion is that they’re faking it, too. If he thinks about it, it was pretty much obvious, but they do it so well that Yoongi had missed it in his bleakness.
Yoongi can see their masks slip now, especially at night.
Nights in The Well are funny. Against all odds, nighttime is actually the clearest moment on the gloomy prison. Water glows. The one that runs down the round walls of the pipe, the one that forms tiny waterfalls in the openings of the cells, and the one that pools at the bottom, shines every night as if reflecting the cold light of the moon.
It’s enrapturing. It looks like streams of a starry sky all around the pipe. During night, they all stay quiet, sleepless, caught under the spell of the eerie sparks, alone with themselves.
Yoongi is used to be alone in his head, it doesn’t bother him that much, but the other guys seem to be stripped bare by the silence.
Hoseok cries quietly almost every night, curled on himself in the back of the cell, the farthest possible from the border. On the contrary, Namjoon sits very close to the edge, deep in thought, considering. Yoongi is sure he’s tempted by the void calling for them. Seokjin is probably the most stoical, which is upsetting on its own, because he’s always full of intention.
It might sound mean, but watching them struggle makes him feel more at ease. It makes them real, closer, it helps him understand them better. And since he’s been paying more attention lately, he actually listens to their conversations, so he has learned many facts about his cellmates, which clears the picture even more.
Hoseok is half leprechaun. Apparently, that is a secret, but he presents himself as such, and makes sure to mention it very often. He says since it won’t come out of The Well, wink wink, it doesn’t matter. He laughs afterwards. He laughs a lot, even about their sad destiny. Yoongi thinks that’s one of Hoseok’s biggest charms. He brightens the mood naturally; he could put the driest person at ease. So, it makes sense when he says that he was an international thief and conman, and that this is his seventh and last conviction. Still, he seems impenitent. He claims that he only robbed people who could afford a theft or two. He also says that he’d seen this coming, that he was surprised he’d made it this far.
With a smile on his face, too.
By the stories he tells, he was reckless, a little bit overconfident, but he was driven. He hadn’t disclosed his motivation, though, and Yoongi thinks it has something to do with the reason why he cries so much.
Namjoon is a tragic hero, the kind of fool who sacrifices himself for people he doesn’t even know. He’s a magic-user and something else, and he had a reputation. Yoongi knew him from outside. Not personally, obviously, but he was constantly in Suran’s radar, because he was a player in the dark side of magic, too. He was known as Monster, but no one called him that, everyone knew Monnie was one of the goodies. The way he talks about himself, however, makes it seem as if he was public enemy #1.
He was one of those who fight the system, mostly spreading awareness about the injustices in their society, but every once in a while, he took action too. He got in the way of those who tried to profit out of innocent magical beings, especially those in the streets. He was some sort of activist slash vigilante.
The world belonged to humans and magic-users, magical beings and mixed people were a step below and thus stepped on. Namjoon was one of those who wanted justice, he was vocal about it, and he was annoying, and the higher-ups hated that kind of people, too dangerous to their perfect indifferent world. So, when Monnie got too far out of the shadows, they seized the opportunity and threw him into hell.
Yoongi would go as far as saying that he likes Namjoon. As someone who always fought to stay alive, Yoongi admires people strong enough to fight for others, even though, like Namjoon, they fuck themselves over in the process.
Seokjin is the shadier of the three. He’s all sweet smiles and flirting, and he’s vague when he speaks about what he did or why he got arrested, but putting two and two together, the most likely is that he used to be some kind of escort that got greedy.
Yoongi is not sure yet if he’s to trust. He hides too much. Yoongi is actually curious, for example, to know what he is, he’s purposely obscure about it, and that only means that he belongs to one of the infamous races.
Racism rules their world; the social pyramid is extremely defined, and those at the bottom have the worst of it. Usually, those whose magic feeds on or manipulates others are considered “dirty”. Yoongi is way down in the pyramid, but he never had a reason to hide what he was. He understands Seokjin, though. People is way too quick to judge superficially.
Still, despite his half-truths and secrets, Seokjin is kind and affectionate, and impossible to resist. Namjoon is the walking proof of that: after only two weeks and a half, he’s already smitten. In Namjoon’s favor, it has to be said that Seokjin tries extra hard to charm him, and for the rest of them, it’s really funny to see.
In fact, they’re all funny. Better than psychopaths, and better than a mortal dive for sure.
Every afternoon, they light a fire with the only two rocks in the cell.
The place isn’t really cold, and the magical fire doesn’t really warm up, but the light and the idea of a fire it’s what they’re actually after.
The food comes at noon, so they eat and then light the fire, and since Yoongi refuses to disclose his past, his cellmates have taken upon themselves to guess what his crime was. It’s funny, they come up with the craziest ideas. They’re idiots.
“We’ve already ruled out the basics: bank robbery, arson, fraud, forgery…” Seokjin is counting with his fingers.
“I like how you say the basics but were trying to convince everyone Yoongi owned half of Seoul’s narcotics business.” Namjoon nudges Seokjin’s shoulder lightly.
“I insist, I wouldn’t be that surprised if he started a killing spree after someone dared to wake him up.” Hoseok purses his lips, but there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
“I’m not a psycho killer,” Yoongi mutters, the ghost of a smile is teasing at the corner of his lips.
“Hey, he hasn’t denied the drug lord theory,” Seokjin points out.
“Gang shit then,” Hoseok proposes, “like biker gang shit.”
“Come on, Seokah.” Seokjin rolls his eyes. “He’d have one of his sudden slumbers and fall off the bike. Besides, he’s a twig.”
He’d get offended, but it’s true. Still, he throws a glare to Seokjin, which is answered with a squeaky laugh.
“There is more than muscle in a gang, though. Yoongi looks like the kind of guy that pulled the strings,” Namjoon reasons.
Yoongi snorts. Hearing their theories is funny, but it also makes him feel a bit… ashamed maybe? Their theories sound way more interesting than reality. Or at least, they give him a lot more credit. Namjoon’s words feel especially bittersweet. He always wanted that, being in control, he used to think that he had the power to do it, but he never even tried to free himself from Suran. He was a slave, and he made himself comfortable in his shackles.
“Can you give us some clues?” Namjoon brings him back.
Seokjin and Hoseok are still discussing the possibility of the gang building a special bike for Yoongi.
“Maybe he rode in the sidecar of the second in command.”
Yoongi ignores that and looks back at Namjoon. He looks like a kid, with his eyes wide open and curious. Namjoon loves puzzles. He doesn’t engage much in Hoseok and Seokjin sillier games, but this building a picture thing caught his attention and he’s taking it very seriously. Yoongi looks down to hide a smile.
“Okay, um…” The other three lean in slightly, Yoongi answering their questions is a rare occurrence. “I wasn’t the perpetrator of most of the stuff I’m charged with.” His words come out slowly, a little bit slurred, but they listen carefully.
“Were you framed?!” Seokjin asks scandalized.
“No…” Yoongi takes a second to yawn. “I just didn’t get my hands dirty.”
“I told you, string pulling.”
“That’s totally gang shit,” Hoseok declares. “Now we need to know what they dealt with.”
“Fake ID’s?” Seokjin scratches his chin. “Too soft.”
“Don’t look down on fake ID’s, there’s a whole network that creates new lives out of thin air in the Balkans. They’re rich as fuck…” Hoseok keeps ranting about some gold currency and whatnot, but no one listen much because Seokjin is still trying to guess.
“Drugs? It’s totally drugs, isn’t it?” After Yoongi shakes his head, Seokjin gasps and points a finger at him. “Hybrid smuggling!”
“Oy, if you did that, we ain’t friends anymore.” Hoseok jumps back into the conversation bewildered.
“What?!” Yoongi’s voice actually raises, not so much offended by the accusation but surprised by Hoseok saying they’re friends. It makes him feel some type of way. “N-no.”
“You’re absolutely ignoring the fact that he’s a sandman.” Namjoon points out.
The other two hum.
“I’ve never met a sandman before, I’ve no idea what they can do.” Seokjin laughs softly and shrugs.
“Me neither, but I’ve-”
“Read all about them,” Hoseok finishes the sentence for him and pats Namjoon in the back. “We know you’re a smart-ass, Joon.”
“Secrets.” Three heads turn to him and Yoongi feels the urge to cover himself with the blanket of his futon. After a while, they’re waiting for more, and Yoongi feels like giving it. “I worked for a witch. We dealt with secrets. She sent me to find out stuff for her, or pass information, or take it, o-or…” Yoongi hesitates before saying the ugly part. “Persuade people.”
“Persuade how?” Seokjin asks.
“Through dreams.” Yoongi doesn’t want to get into details.
“Or bad, if necessary.” He shrugs. According to the judge some people had ended up in asylums.
“Nice dreams?” Hoseok rolls his eyes at Seokjin. “Why would he be in jail for nice dreams? Seriously, Seokjin, you’re the worst detective.”
“Well, there were nice dreams, too,” Yoongi points out.
“So, bribery? Extortion? That’s like a mind muscle.” Seokjin sounds a bit disappointed.
“T-they also charged me with espionage,” Yoongi offers, feeling guilty for whatever reason.
“Oh.” Seokjin’s eyes light up again. “That sounds cooler.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes and puts on the hood of his hoodie.
“Cooler?” Hoseok snorts. “We’re in jail, Seokjin, we’re total losers.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.”
People come and go in The Well.
Even though everyone comes with a life sentence, the prison is far from crowded. According to Seokjin, most people jump the first night.
“What about you?” Yoongi asks, and later on realizes it might have come out a bit insensitive.
Seokjin intrigues him. He’d been four months in The Well, a whole one of those alone, and he seems undaunted. Yoongi meant to ask how he has done it to resist.
“Well, I- I…” He puts on his sugary, concealing smile. “I was waiting for you, guys.”
Yoongi doesn’t push beyond.
Seokjin rarely talks seriously, and the few times he’d done it, he has made it clear that he hasn’t had a great time in this prison. Seokjin is a survivor, too.
In their three weeks together in The Well, they’ve received two new cellmates, and as Seokjin had said, they left fairly quickly. They’ve heard other people in other cells, and they’ve also heard and seen the splash in the pool below.
Yoongi wonders if the infamous prison is really that powerful, or if they four are just exceptional. In any case, Yoongi is learning from his cellmates, and he tries not to think much about it. The balance is feeble.
It’s a first when three people stumble in at once through a portal on the back wall.
And between those people, Yoongi is surprised to see a kid he knows, of all the people in the world that kid... What are the odds?
“I’m sorry, my boy, I have to let you go.”
She had had the nerve to say that, that fucking witch.
Yoongi is panicking. The police are coming, and he’s in a slumber.
His breath comes out ragged. He’s in the darkness, no dream around available, just cold darkness and his anxiety, materializing as a raging wind.
Suran set him up. She took him to a dirty hotel room and sent him on a quest just to tell him they’ve been found, someone wants Yoongi out of the game and she can’t do anything, she is sorry... His ass.
Yoongi had woken up immediately to find himself locked in the room. Out of nerves, his body had shut down and here he is. Lying on the floor. Asleep.
What can he do?
He might as well do nothing, he’s already fucked. If the police are coming, they already have him in their radar, there’s nowhere to run… And still, something desperate inside him urges him to at least try. After almost ten years of passivity, he can’t just wait for his new captors laid on the floor.
So, what can he do?
The air around him stills as the proverbial lightbulb lights in his brain.
He’d never tried it before, in theory it works, should work... Shit, he must be really desperate.
The darkness starts to clear into a light fog. Yoongi closes his eyes and tries to sense the closest dreamer. Ironically, there’s none in the hotel, but outside, in an alley close to the building, a boy. Yoongi blinks slowly and when he opens his eyes again, he’s in a strawberry field, the boy, in loose, ragged clothes, sits in the middle, stuffing his mouth full.
“Hello,” Yoongi calls as friendly as he can.
“Oh!” The boy turns around with big, round eyes. “Hello?”
“So, you like strawberries?” He needs the boy to accept his presence without a question.
“Love ‘em.” A big boxy smile lights his face. “Want some?”
That was easy.
“Mmm, why not?” Yoongi sits in front of the boy, whose smile gets even brighter.
“Let me look for some real good ones for you.”
Now that the boy is distracted thrashing around the plants looking for strawberries, Yoongi takes a big calming breath and the moment the boy looks up, Yoongi raises his open hands and throws a big cloud of dream dust towards the unsuspecting boy. The golden substance hits his face with a puff, and after some absent blinks, he falls asleep.
He has only heard stories about this meta shit. In theory, now that the boy is asleep, he’s on a deeper level and Yoongi should have control over his conscience at this level, to the point of being able to control even his body outside the Dream Realm. In theory.
The strawberry field starts vanishing little by little. If he tries waking up now, he should come out of the dream maze through a different gate than his own.
The surroundings define all of a sudden.
“Hey!” The boy bursts awake.
Shit. If he gets too weirded out, he’ll wake up for real and Yoongi will have to look for someone else… Maybe that would be for the best, this boy has too strong of a will.
“Hey…” Yoongi tries a smile, and the boy seems to accept it. “How are those strawberries?”
“Oh, yeah. I was… looking for a strawberry for you, but then…” The boy frowns and squints his eyes, clearly thinking too much for someone dreaming.
Time’s running out.
Yoongi takes drastic measures. He changes the scenery to fluffy pink clouds and when the boy is looking around in awe, he hits him with another load of dust. The cotton clouds catch his body. Yoongi waits for a few seconds, but the boy remains asleep. Only then Yoongi closes his eyes.
He tries to wake up, everything around him vanishes into blackness. It’s just him and the boy. There are two images overlapping: the hotel room he is in, and a dirty alley where the boy must be. Yoongi reaches for that one, his brain going movemovemovemove…
“What’s going on?”
The kids awake again.
“For fuck’s sake, stay asleep!”
“Who are you? What are you doing?”
Yoongi can feel himself loosening the grasp on the boy’s consciousness.
“I need you to get me out of that room. Come on, move!”
The boy’s body sits up.
For the boy it must be like being trapped inside his own body with no control over it and with a stranger’s voice in his head… It must be scary, he’ll wake up soon.
Yoongi is holding with all his strength, he needs the boy to surrender, but he’s stubborn as fuck.
In the Dream Realm, they’re still side by side, standing in the darkness. He turns to the boy and looks at him, his handsome face is worried, but he’s not scared. Yoongi noticed that as soon as he entered the dream, the boy is fearless, he wonders where his confidence lays. Sadly, there’s no time to peer inside his head, but Yoongi doesn’t need to read his mind to know threats won’t work with him.
“Please, just…” He softens his voice, better with honey than with vinegar, right? Yoongi grabs the boy’s cheek gently so he’s facing him and leans in so he’s touching the boy’s forehead with his own. The golden dust of his magic envelopes them both. “Please, go to sleep.”
This seems to soothe the boy.
Yoongi closes his eyes. He sees the room and the alley. He stands. His own body can’t obey, so it’s the boy’s body moving. It feels so slow, the body fighting Yoongi’s orders, but he keeps going, walks out of the alley and into the hotel. Ignoring the calls of the receptionist, he climbs the stairs and walks across the hallway. He kicks the door open, the boy’s strong, he can feel it. There is Yoongi’s body. He can see both, himself lying on the floor and the boy standing in front of him.
“Mister, you can’t just bang into the guest’s rooms!”
Yoongi makes the boy’s body pick his up and it’s weird as fuck to feel both movements, but he’s determined. This might actually work. He passes from the receptionist threatening with calling the police, they’re coming anyway.
Yoongi undoes the way, it’s unnervingly slow, but it’s fucking working!
They’re walking down the street when the red and blue lights get to them.
“Freeze! Drop the suspect and put your hands up!”
This is it.
The gravity of the situation falls over him all of a sudden.
With the last of his grasp on the boy’s mind, Yoongi orders him to drop him and run. The hit with the asphalt wakes him up finally. The boy is awake, too, his eyes, big and scared, look down at him.
“Go,” Yoongi hisses, and that seems to give the boy the kick start.
The police lose him a few blocks after. Yoongi, on the other hand, is thrown into the patrol car and put on magic-restraining handcuffs.
Yoongi wonders if it’s his fault.
When the police questioned him about the boy he confessed to have… what? Hypnotized him? Possessed him? Whatever, he told the truth and said the boy wasn’t involved at all. They asked Yoongi about a lot of people, but he only knew Suran. She had bought her immunity, though. With him.
So, the boy must have done something on his own, something serious enough to be sent to The Well. The boy had seemed physically capable of disaster, but mentally unable to hurt a fly. Who knows, though. It’s said that this prison receives only the extremely dangerous, the conviction-collectors, and the idiots who had bothered those with connections. There is a lot inside those options.
The boy’s hair is longer and his clothes more ragged. He’s currently trashing on the floor, fighting the restraining collar out of his neck. He won’t go anywhere with that, but he sure is trying hard.
There’s a tense silence in the cell. The new arrivals look unfriendly. To say the least. There’s a woman, impossibly beautiful and sensual, but with a mean air around her. She seems to have her eyes set on Seokjin, who has turned visibly stiff and awkward under her watch.
As for the third one, it’s a man taller than all of them and at least twice as big. He’s getting madder by the second, too. His hostile inspection is measuring and interrupted every few seconds to throw blades at the kid, his restless behavior is clearly bothering him.
On their side, Yoongi can almost hear Hoseok and Namjoon’s brains working. They’re probably thinking the same: this is going to end badly.
He can see the scene play out. He’s really good at that, picturing all the possible outcomes of a situation. He lowers his head and closes his eyes to see it even better.
The man is unstable, he’s going to snap, there’s too much tension in the room. He’s going to make them submit, he seems like the territorial type. None of them is strong enough to take him down, maybe the kid, but he’s too far gone in his desperation to be of any help. Both Namjoon and Hoseok seem the type to talk his way out of conflict. Seokjin is the kind to fuck his way out, but he is absorbed in a silent fight with the woman. Yoongi can’t help for shit—
Or maybe he can.
There’s something going on with the woman and Seokjin. She has got a lot closer… But Yoongi can’t care about that, he’s trying to anticipate the man’s moves. If he acts like Yoongi expects him to, there might be a way to get rid of him.
The woman gets boldly close, but Seokjin rejects her. Yoongi spares a glance at them, their energy is spiking. For the first time, the always composed Seokjin seems out of control. He’s turning his face away from her, but still seems pulled. If Yoongi had to make a wild guess, he’d say they’re lovers, but… Yoongi gives up and lets his attention be drawn towards them. They’re irresistible. What is that all about? Why can’t he stop looking? Do they really know each other?
No, not personally. It seems more like they recognized each other intrinsically. They’re the same, they…
They’re incubi. Of course, Seokjin’s an incubus. Everything makes sense now. Yoongi suspected it, for what he said and what he didn’t say, how he acted, and especially, the way he has them all wrapped around his little finger. Even Yoongi, although he would never admit it. He’s annoying as fuck, but it’s hard to stay mad at him. He’s gorgeous even after four months in jail. He’s charming and attractive even though he’s a total nerd, there had to be something supernatural to it. Yoongi snorts at the thought.
“The fuck you’re laughing at?”
It’s the man.
Shit, he let himself go too much. He looks up. The man is bleeding… what happened?!
The boy is crouching at the very back of the cell, wiping blood from his face. Not his.
So, the string snapped, and he missed it, fantastic.
Fuck it, it’s all the same, if this doesn’t work, the end will be the same.
“You got something to tell me? The fuck you think you are?”
God, he spits when he talks. Yoongi knows the disgust is showing in his face. Good.
Seokjin tries to intercept the guy stomping closer.
No. This only works if it’s Yoongi.
“Shut up, slut. I don’t like you, not any of you, and I don’t like the way this one’s looking at me.”
Yoongi. Okay, let it begin.
He stands slowly. The man has no idea what Yoongi might be and that works in his favor, for all he knows, he could have crazy strength just like the kid. If he doesn’t notice Namjoon and Hoseok’s eyes falling from their sockets, Yoongi’s bluff might work.
“… I’m the alpha here, and-”
Ah, there you go. He was right. This is really one of those useless assholes, trying to impose respect through fear. Yoongi takes a few steps in the man’s direction to his absolute offense.
“Is this what you meant by impolite cellmates, Jin?” Yoongi remembers one of the first things Seokjin told them before he came down to their cell was that he had had many bothersome cellmates during his time in The Well and he implied having got rid of the impolite ones. Seokjin is not a fighter, so he probably did it the sneaky way, just like Yoongi is planning on doing right now. Hopefully, Jin will understand and won’t get in his way.
Yoongi is right in front of the man now, he’s easily two heads taller than him. It wouldn’t be the first time, he tries to remember himself, so the fear doesn’t slip out. He can take a beating and that’s his advantage right now.
“Um… n-not exactly, but—” Seokjin’s tongue is all tied. Yoongi would like to reassure him, but he’s not quite sure about this either. Out of the corner of his eye, Yoongi sees the woman slipping down the border of the cell, clever move, flee the sinking boat. In another life, Yoongi would’ve done the same, what changed?
Yoongi hears Seokjin gasp before he understands why the incubus emitted the sound. When he lands on the hard floor of the cell, he’s fully aware that the man threw the first blow. Okay, good, and he’s right handed too, so Yoongi was thrown in the direction of the border of the cell.
He can’t really feel it, that’s why it had to be him, he can ignore it and stand again, they’re not close enough yet. Namjoon, Hoseok and Seokjin jump to help but he stops them. They would only get in the way.
The man seems put off by Yoongi being still standing and even talking, so he grabs Yoongi by the front of his hoodie and throws him back to the floor.
Okay, maybe he feels that one a bit more. The air is knocked out of his lungs, Yoongi rolls away, so they get even closer to the border. He stands again, his back to the void. This is it.
“That’s the best you can do?” Yoongi needs the man mad angry. He has the nerve to grin too, for good measure.
One of the advantages of his brain working really slow is that things around him go also slower. This results in him not being able to react in time, unless he knows exactly what will happen. Just as he speaks, he sees the man’s face twitching, his eyes clouded by rage.
Ah, so predictable.
As Yoongi registers the first steps of the man’s charge against him, he prepares himself to step aside. If he times it wrong, the guy will take Yoongi down with him.
Hoseok screams, the steps of the man hit the stone loud, his own heart on his ears, the sounds come from a big distance. Yoongi gasps, it’s now or never.
His legs move.
Was it too late?
There’s a grunt and another scream. His body aches, but… he’s not being crushed, nor free falling.
Did it work?
Yes. There’s a big splash.
He’s standing by the border. He looks around and his eyes land on the boy. His eyes round in fear, he must remember Yoongi. It’s funny to see him scared when Yoongi knows the boy could take him down easily. He likes this boy.
A sigh escapes his lips and his knees buckle. He falls on his butt. If his magic was unbound, his body would be shutting down right now. As it is, he stays awake, and everything hurts. He’s shaking slightly, the feeling of his heart racing surprises him a bit, he’s unfamiliar with adrenaline. There’s a jab on his shoulder.
“Holy shit, mate!” Hoseok’s loud voice sounds nervous.
Surely, they thought he was going to die.
“Where did that come from?” Seokjin’s voice is also wobbly, he’s rubbing his back soothingly. “Also, Jin? I kind of like it.”
Were they that worried, seriously?
“Let me see.” Namjoon kneels in front of him and scans his face up and down. Nothing is broken, but it hurts like hell. “Are you okay?”
There’s a sudden burst of emotion that’s definitely not the adrenaline. Yoongi always thought they tolerated him, at best. Now, seeing them genuinely worried about him it’s kind of touching.
“I think—” Something moves inside his mouth when he speaks. A molar. He takes it out. “I’ll live.”
“Good… Yongs!” Hoseok ruffles his hair to his despair. The idiot only smiles brighter when Yoongi frowns at him. “That was fucking incredible. I thought—” He fakes a sob and covers his forehead with a hand. “This is the last we’ll see of our good sandman…”
“But the son of a bitch was sneakier than we thought.” Seokjin squeaky laugh echoes in the whole pipe.
“I-I was lucky,” he drawls, shrinking a little on himself, suddenly shy. God, he wants to sleep.
“Yes, you were.” Namjoon is actually putting on his scolding face. “Don’t do it again. You’re not on you own anymore.”
Yoongi wants to reply, but he can’t, his throat is too tight.
You’re not on your own anymore.
So, that changed.
He’s been on his own since his mother died. He thought he’d die alone, and he was okay with that. Now these annoying pieces of magic garbage are all fussing over him. Seokjin is all but hugging him, Hoseok keeps wailing about how scared he was of losing him, and Namjoon has the nerve to tell him that they’ll have his back next time. Yoongi could fucking cry.
“Yeah, just a thank you would be enough, a-assholes,” he grunts, but he’s pouting so it surely didn’t have the effect he was aiming for.
“Yoon-yoon, you’re blushing.” Hoseok pokes his side.
“Don’t. Ever. Call me that again.” Hoseok only laughs.
He can finally put a name to the boy’s face: Taehyung.
It’s not hard to make him stop looking at them with suspicion. Seokjin and Hoseok are great diplomats, they put the boy at ease in an instant. They light a fire and give Taehyung the few pieces of food they had kept for later.
What Yoongi missed in that couple of seconds lapsus, as Hoseok is prompt to narrate, was the man grabbing Taehyung by the collar and try threatening him so Taehyung stayed quiet, but Tae, not up to take anyone’s shit, had broken the man’s nose with a headbutt.
“I asked him to let go of me and he didn’t,” he excuses himself.
He talks a bit like a kid. He’s a baby dragon, he calls himself that, even though he’s twenty plus. Something about dragons living longer lives and whatnot.
So, Taehyung’s a dragon shifter, and a young one. Yoongi loved dragons when he was a kid, there was always dragons in his dreams back then. He always hoped to meet one in real life one day. And well, shit, dreams come true.
Yoongi feels twice guiltier for their previous encounter now, but thankfully, no, Yoongi is not to blame for him being in The Well. Taehyung broke the law on his own, even though he has no idea what he did wrong. Or he doesn’t want to tell. Taehyung seems like the kind of person who can’t lie for shit. Yoongi knows Hoseok and Seokjin picked that up too, so they’ll crack him in no time.
Taehyung fits right in in their little gang.
He’s lively by nature, so he easily engages in Hoseok and Seokjin shenanigans. He seems to like Namjoon especially. Yoongi didn’t catch it, but apparently, they’ve met before. All in all, it’s like Taehyung had always been with them.
He still keeps a watchful eye on Yoongi, though. It’s funny, but the kid deserves better. He’s already anxious about the collar, he doesn’t need to fear Yoongi invading his head.
“Hey, kid.” Taehyung actually jumps a little when he taps his shoulder one afternoon, while the others are distracted with something else. “Um… Sorry for, you know, that, before. I hope I didn’t get you in trouble.”
Taehyung squints his eyes.
“And, of course, there’s no way I can do it again.” Yoongi tugs at his restraining collar to illustrate. “So.” He nods, hoping that the no need to worry is inferred.
“You didn’t get me in trouble.” He seems to think about it a bit. “But I couldn’t help you…”
Yoongi’s eyebrows quirk. He was kind of stressed at the moment, but he remembers the impression the kid’s mind left him. He’s quick, but not shallow, he’s selfless and eager to understand the world, still new around him. No wonder why it was so hard to control him, in the end, Yoongi suspects Taehyung let him.
“You didn’t have to in the first place. I didn’t ask, remember?”
“Just…” Yoongi stops him before they lose the point. “Stop looking at me like I’m about to attack you or something, okay?”
There are those big, round eyes again looking at him with less than ease.
Taehyung nods vigorously, and after a second, his eyes disappear as his face lights up with his boxy smile.
For the first time in forever Yoongi can’t sleep.
It must be the collar, his magic restricted and all that.
Yoongi doesn’t know how to feel about it. For once, he misses the Dream Realm terribly. It’s like a pivotal part of himself had been ripped off, erased, the part he always thought to be his true self. Now he’s not so sure. As time passes and his magic remains caged, the fog in his brain is less thick by the day, his body is still numb and answers several seconds after he commands it, but he’s awake. He’s Yoongi, in and out of dreams.
But he still gets sleepy and drowsy, he still feels the need to sleep several times a day, and that’s why he’s rather shocked when after a whole night awake, which is the usual, dawn comes, and his eyes remain wide open. As he listens the regular, serene breathing of his cellmates trimmed with Namjoon’s snoring, his mind is adrift, jumping from one topic to another, following each of them very loosely and nonsensically. He wonders if dreaming feels like this, like, for a normal person. He can’t recall a thought after he loses his grasp on it, although some stay present and recursive, and play over and over...
Seokjin stirring up and rolling out of his futon pulls him out of his reverie. The incubus runs to look out from the border of their cell, muttering something desperately between his teeth.
“What’s wrong?” Hoseok is up, too. Seokjin shushes him and starts pacing, which makes Taehyung wake up with a jump, ready to fight. “Woah, Tae, calm down.”
What’s going on?
Yoongi sits up. Seokjin seems really out of it.
“Oy, Jin, what’s up?” Hoseok tries to stop Seokjin’s pacing, but the incubus easily brushes him off.
Yoongi turns to Namjoon, the only one who’s still asleep, oblivious to the impromptu drama. He looks back at the other three and Hoseok mouths wake him up right before going back to reasoning with a very stressed Seokjin. Yoongi is still clueless, Namjoon is the only one capable of kicking some sense into any situation.
“Hey, Joon—” Yoongi taps the hand over Namjoon chest and something peculiar happens.
It’s like when he drifts into the Dream Realm. There’s that buzz, that sizzling energy of someone having a not so peaceful dream, he chases it and finds himself in an empty arena with Namjoon by his side.
Namjoon look like a completely different person, he must be dreaming with the past. His stance is radically different to what they see every day, he’s angry, the air around him charged. He looks scary, his hair, long and white, tied in a bun that makes visible his ears full of metal rings, his eyes glow a slight shade of silver, full of wrath.
“Namjoon?” Yoongi has to ask, still a bit incredulous that the man beside him could be their gentle Namjoon.
When he notices Yoongi the connection is lost and they’re back in the cell.
What did just happen?
It was like being in the Dream Realm once again, but his magic is tied, it’s impossible…
“How—?” Namjoon is blinking up at him, baffled. His eyes and hair back to the black Yoongi knows.
Yeah, how? Yoongi wants to get to the end of that, but there are more pressing matters.
“Something’s going on.”
It was an inspection. Seokjin managed to explain that someone was coming right after the same woman that received them from court and opened the portal to send them here waltzed into their cell with a bright, nasty smile. She must be like the warden of the prison, Seokjin told them she comes once a month or so, and she’s vicious, especially with the incubus.
Seokjin messed with someone he shouldn’t have and was sent to The Well without a trial, that woman was the how. She doesn’t stay for long, but after she leaves, the spirits are down, mostly because Seokjin is down.
As a collective, they decide to send Namjoon to cheer him up. They’re not sure if it worked, but the incubus looks way less miserable with his head resting on Namjoon’s shoulder.
There haven’t been any more sleepless mornings, but he’s getting steadily less drowsy.
Yoongi is still intrigued by that little episode with Namjoon. He would like to try it again, but he wouldn’t know how to explain it if one of the guys caught him looming over them while they are sleeping. And asking would be weird, he reckons. He’ll wait for an opportunity.
Life in The Well is getting comfortable. The guys are still annoying, but since the incident with that man he sent flying down, Yoongi feels like one of them.
The nights after the incident, when he lay in pain from the bruises in his body, he wondered why he bothered. No one asked him to do it, he smashed all the way out of his comfort zone and risked his life for a bunch of strangers. But the thing is – he arrives at the conclusion during those nights when his face is swollen and hurting – they’re not exactly strangers. Yoongi doubts about calling them friends, only because he doesn’t really know what that entails, but they’re certainly close. Yoongi trust them, and they trust Yoongi. It’s weird, it’s nice. It is.
Yoongi is asleep, sitting in the middle of the blackness. Well, it might be white, it’s just nothing. Therefore, it’s only a manner of speaking to say that he’s sitting in the middle, he’s just there. He has tried to fall asleep here, but it’s impossible. If he thinks about it, he has never been asleep for real… Yoongi sighs. He said that he’s alright being alone in his head, but after almost a month… he’s not so sure. He keeps having these stupid thoughts that go nowhere.
Yoongi wakes up.
There was a sound, like someone hitting the stone floor. Yoongi sits up. There’s the sound again.
A boy, hitting on the back wall, through which he probably just arrived.
He’s half naked. Yoongi can only see his back painted in curved light blue lines that shine slightly and seem to continue in the boy’s front. He stops hitting, his palms stick to the wall, and his dark-haired head hangs between strong shoulders that start shaking with silent sobs. His fist hits the wall one last time before he turns around and catches Yoongi staring.
The boy’s eyes open in surprise, and Yoongi is sure the same expression is painted on his face.