Work Text:
Yoongi sat down on the edge of his bed, letting out a brief sob.
A point of no return was his new home, and he knew it was time to leave.
How does one ever escape a point of no return? There's only one way and Yoongi was nearly ready for it.
Nearly.
Why was leaving so hard? Why did he still want to go if he felt this guilty about leaving? His family, his friends would never recover if he left. What would the band do without him? Would they move on with the band or would this completely break them apart?
So many questions that would never be answered for him.
Yoongi looked at the table, snapshots from years gone by stared back at him. Another question: why were these memories not enough to make him stay? His mother raised him to be passionate about his life. His mother loved him and watched him grow, even if she hadn't always supported him. His life with BTS was a dream come true. He had the life that people envied because they couldn't reach as high as their stardom. He should want to continue that dream.
That dream came with so many benefits, his room was lined with awards of all kinds. All of these awards filled him with such pride when they were received, but now? Now they reminded him of every award they never won. Why were they never good enough for the other awards? Why was he never good enough for these awards? He had failed BTS and he had failed himself.
With another cry, Yoongi fell back onto the bed, fighting with himself over leaving. He was grasping at straws, and each straw seemed to shatter like glass every time they were touched.
Yoongi was far too familiar with shattered glass. The remanence of his last outburst was still on the floor, where he had stepped over it for a few days instead of cleaning it up. Today was day three of it resting there. Day three of him brewing over what led to the outburst.
A morning of drinking was what made Yoongi snap. It made his bandmates snap as well. A confrontation turned screaming match resulted in Yoongi's drink going flying into the wall out of anger. He hadn't talked to any of his bandmates since Jin quickly pulled Jimin out of the room after the glass bounced from the wall to the floor. Maybe that's why he should leave. Maybe that's why those memories mean nothing. He had disappointed them. He disappointed himself by letting himself go.
Maybe he wanted to make up for it all before he left. Nothing could make it better, but at least Yoongi wouldn't have to worry about Namjoon hurting himself with the glass. He knew they wouldn't call in one of the workers to clean it since all the boys had time on their hands to do it. The lack of shows and obligations sent him into this downward spiral and it was only fitting that it could cause even more harm. Yoongi didn't want that to happen, even if he was leaving on bad terms. He couldn't bring himself to make things right, but at least the glass wouldn't be a problem.
The tiny dust pan was finally used for more than collecting dust, and the glass made its way to the trashcan. With that out of the way, Yoongi looked around again, feeling like he still wasn't ready.
Stalling? Only people who didn't want to leave stalled. He was just looking after what he was leaving behind.
Yoongi started plucking things off of the floor, bringing them to the hamper. The old clothes were stained with food and smelled like they had been in the floor for weeks...which they had. It wasn't often that his room was clean even when he felt okay. He didn't want to leave the room as if it was his own. He didn't want that for the ones he loved.
Slowly but surely, all the things on the floor were either in the hamper or the garbage. It was time to take the awards down. His accomplishments fit into a few boxes on the floor. Funny how life worked that way. Yoongi slipped his posters into the boxes as well, leaving the walls almost without a trace of him.
The last remaining reminders of Yoongi were the marks on the walls left by his outbursts. Paint messed up, uneven walls from where he had patched up holes, and scratches left a reminder of him. He couldn't fix that in the time he had, and he felt content enough with his work in the room that it wouldn't matter. Messed up walls would have to be fixed to sell the house, which would have to be done someday. He was sure the band wouldn't cry over damaged walls...right?
With one last look, Yoongi let out a deep breath. It was time to go. There was nothing more to hang on to. He made sure that they wouldn't cling to his room as a way to cope. He made sure they wouldn't have to feel bad about turning his room into something new. He wouldn't make them make that choice themselves.
Yoongi could leave now knowing they wouldn't have to redecorate.