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seokahwrites · 3 years ago

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growing pains

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pairing.

| high school graduate! min yoongi x high school junior! reader

summary.

| people always said you must let go of what you love, and you finally understand what it means.

tags.

| i am so sorry; this comes from a PERSONAL trauma; i love writing angst; blond yoongi supremacy; ykw min yoongi supremacy in general; reader is emotionally mature asf; reader is girlboss; you could say this could be canon/irl?

a/n.

| sorry for all my nuisance readers that are waiting for the next chapters :P IDK WHEN IMMA PICK THAT UP AGAIN. but i present this min yoongi angst that made me very happy to write, tbh came close to tears while writing it. sorry if the writing is kinda everywhere, hope yall like it tho <33 as always thank u for the massive support and love,, love u all

you weren’t quite sure where all the time went. one day you were brushing your teeth for your first day of school, then boom, you’ve finished your third year of high school. it’s similar to how just yesterday you were helping a tiny kid pick up his soiled cd’s and backpack from a puddle and eleven years later you’re watching him graduate.

well, you didn’t get to actually see yoongi graduate since you were too busy making preparations for the night, but that’s besides the point. tonight had to be perfect.

it is goodbye after all.

who knew that the inseparable min yoongi and y/n l/n would ever have to pull away from each other this way. that little shit better appreciate all the spine bending effort you put into making the spot so amazing — not that it wasn’t great before.

with a literal pat to the back and your hands on your hips, you look around the roof with an uncontainable grin, the flashes of purple and blue from the string lights reflected on the gloss of your eyes, every inhale was overtaken with the smell of coffee seeping from the ice cream tubs and a warm seat on the patio couch awaited, along with fuzzy blankets galore.

you’ve outdone yourself this time.

your hands lean against the cold stone at the edge of the terrace and your eyes wandered to the city that laid beneath your feet, from the green hills at the centre of it all to the luminescence of the glass buildings, there wasn’t a single droplet of air that didn’t feel like home.

tap, tap.

speaking of home, you hear familiar soft footsteps from the staircase, snapping you from your little daze and guiding your way to the entrance, your jazz hands in the air and a smile on your face. god, he was gonna love it.

“surprise!”

yoongi reacts a moment too late, his head snapping up and his graduation cap almost falling from his head. the boy was clad with a blue gown, he looked so mature for a mere second — but it was yoongi after all. his eyes widen before his peach lips make a silent “oh,” the entirety of his gums and teeth making an appearance along with the plumping of his cheeks. your heart falters for a moment at the sight, even worse when his eyes disappear into crescent moons that were surely stolen from the sky.

min yoongi looks pretty. not only that, but min yoongi was ecstatic.

“wow,” his head looked from left to right and top to bottom, “the spot looks great.”

you follow him with tiny steps and once you’re close enough to the couch, you push yoongi onto the plush seat, heading to the cooler and grabbing the ice cream, “i just put a few lights and blankets to be honest,” you take a seat beside him and he covers the both of you with the stack of blankets, “it wasn’t a lot of trouble, really.”

yoongi throws away his graduation cap and wiggles out of the flimsy gown, brushing his fingers through his platinum hair and taking a deep breath before snatching the spoon from your hold, “it’s still perfect.”

come on, y/n. pull yourself together. you tell yourself, but it’s hard when yoongi of all people is sitting beside you under the moonlight, stuffing his mouth with ice cream and glowing.

your memory isn’t quite clear as to when exactly did yoongi stop existing to you but glowing, instead. there’s so many moments to remember.

perhaps it was actually the very first moment you laid eyes on him. your rubber boots were muddy and your yellow raincoat was absolutely drenched, no puddle escaped from your stomps. but just as you were a few houses away from yours you see a figure laying beside a puddle and you realise that maybe that person did not want to be laying down in the cold rain.

and all it took was for you to pick up a kid’s shit from a pool of dirty water to meet min yoongi and shortly after, you were practically attached at the hip.

or it very well could be the night before your big sister moved away, your sobs must’ve escaped through the open windows because min yoongi was knocking at your door in no time — the signature two fast knocks and two slow ones. you were only an 11 year old who had never experienced such a change, and it only dawned upon you that night.

yoongi stayed with you for hours on end until you fell asleep on his lap, still with trembling breaths, but your mind eventually steered away from the fact you weren’t going to annoy your sister before going to school every morning anymore — she can’t put up with you during college — and it focused on yoongi’s cold fingers stroking through every strand of your hair ever so delicately and how warm he actually felt.

and there you were, the same kids with your head on his shoulder only this time, he was the one leaving.

“what’s up with you?” he asks as if he had read your mind.

you pull your hood over your head and you smile a bit for whatever reason, “i don’t wanna talk about it.”

he flicks your forehead, the fucker. the abuse makes you sit up, glaring at him with incredulous eyes and you’re about to say a profanity but he beats you to it, “we need to talk about it, y/n.”

and it pains you how nonchalant he sounds.

you slap your hands to your knees and purse your lips, “fine.”

yoongi finally puts down the ice cream — only a spoon of it left. “we both knew this was coming since freshman year, y/n.”

you scoff, as if knowing a goodbye was coming makes it any easier. “that doesn’t make it better.”

his hand makes its way to yours, placed on top of your fist, that melts into an open palm, with utter ease. still, you pull away, “please, don’t do that.”

and you wince at your own tone. it wasn’t like it’s yoongi’s fault that he’s moving away forever. or maybe it was.

it was unfair of you to say, but the weight on your chest had to have a reason, someone to blame. as yoongi’s best friend, of course you love him more than anything in the world and you’ll always support whatever decisions he needs to make to properly follow his dreams. but as the person that plays with the line of friends and more with yoongi, you almost want to beg him to stay. to stay so he could — for lack of a better word — like you, now isn’t that selfish.

yoongi blinks slowly, “we’ve talked about this y/n.”

ah, of course you have. you’ve talked about whatever the fuck this was several times, some of them were in between your interlaced fingers, others resided in the silence as you slept in the same bed and a lot of them echoed from your bitter words. but, once again, is that supposed to make things better?

the day you told him what you really felt for him is crystal clear in your memory, not only for the painful pubescent confession but yoongi’s own news he needed to share. perhaps your relationship was always ill-fated, yoongi had a scraped knee while you reeked of rainwater and you uttered an i love you while yoongi announced he couldn’t stay by your side. the irony.

your eyes are glassy with unspilled tears when you look up at him. why were you so weak?

“stop acting like it isn’t hard on me too,” he sniffles and shuts his eyes with more force than necessary. oh.

you bite your lip and look away at the guilty sight, afraid of what may come out if you don’t. but, if he does know of the turmoil you feel, why is he still insisting?

cold fingers meet your jaw, pushing you with that same delicacy from years ago until you meet his own concealed bloodshot eyes, “you’re not the only person who’s been in—,” he stumbles with his words, “—liked the other for the last decade, you know?”

why did he have to say it out loud? he’s only making it sound real.

maybe, it was actually your fault. if you hadn’t decided to tell yoongi of the butterflies in your stomach, you could’ve pushed them away and let the fantasy live as fiction. but no, you told him about the damn critters and they’ve been eating away at your core ever since, desperate to come out because min yoongi liked you and he was right in front of you ready to be liked right back, yet you could never reach him.

min yoongi was fishing stars from atop jupiter and you were still dancing on saturn’s rings.

you lean into his touch, placing your own hand on his and chuckling at his cheesy line, “that’s just how lucky i am,” and your attempt at humour makes the corners of yoongi’s mouth lift just a little bit.

his thumb glides on the skin it could reach, “so can’t we just have a night like every other one we’ve spent together?”

classic min yoongi.

but as to yourself, you were sick of ignoring things. you were tired of how your heart throbbed whenever you’d fit your face into yoongi’s neck so effortlessly, as if it was only natural; tired of your cheeks along with the rest of your skin burning with every thoughtless caress and sweet nothings he would whisper at the dead of night; and you were tired of your eyes prioritising yoongi’s soft lips over every other feature on his face and how much you yearned to touch them with your own — of how you’d always catch his gaze mirroring yours.

a person could only take so much and you were bursting at the seams already.

still, you only nod.

the silence became unbearable by the minute, even with your head on his shoulder and your hands in his pocket, there was so much that wanted to get out — yoongi would only need to say the right wrong words for all of it to come spilling out. so you speak first, making sure that doesn’t happen.

“it’s gonna be weird without you, y’know?”

you feel his cheeks puff up, subtle as ever “of course,” he squeezes your pinky out of pure habit, “who’s gonna make home cooked meals for me if you mom ain’t around,” and you wish you could white out the blue in his words.

“i swear—,” you chuckle and cross your arms, lifting your head to stare back at the constellations, “—she probably cried more than me when i told her you were leaving.”

before the words could echo back in your head, your eyes are back on yoongi and the boy is staring at the floor with a flood threatening to break out from his eyes.

you just had to open your mouth, huh.

your mouth forms incoherent noises in a miserable attempt to make up for your little slip up, but to no avail. yoongi only shakes his head and looks at you, the way his shoulders slumped exposing that he was trying just as hard to pull it together, maybe even harder.

“me too,” he utters, and you don’t fully understand what he means by that.

a bubble seems to form around the both of you, locking you in your own little world with yoongi, as it always happens when you let him entrance you for a moment too long, and in those seconds that spread to hours you just want to float away, you’re not sure where to but the gloss in his eyes are enough to guide the way.

“y/n,” don’t, “i’m gonna mi—.”

pop.

“please don’t,” you hate the venom that seeps from your tongue, “please stop, yoongi.”

and you want your tears to come thundering over your cheeks, for the red you’re holding in to shoot out from your heart, just so you could show him an inch of what you’re feeling. but you can’t. you shouldn’t.

yoongi’s soft eyes sharpen, “why don’t you want me to say it?”

no, no. that’s a lie.

of course you want to hear him say it. you want yoongi’s voice to sing every word of affection he has to tell you, you want to be wrapped with the smell of yoongi’s embrace, for him to whisper every sin for only your ears to hear and you want nothing more than to remain in every moment you’ve spent with him.

you look down, “if you say things out loud, they might come true.”

he races to grip your hands over his lap, “but it is.”

it is, it is, it is.

you blink away your tears before gazing back at your little piece of the sky, a smile never present in his pouty lips, yet you still read every pore of his skin like the back of your hand.

“yoongi,” you despise your sniffling tone, “let’s face the facts. you’re gonna be hundreds of kilometres away in a big city, i’m gonna be stuck in our little neighbourhood for who knows how long and all we can do is try to forget each other,” your voice breaks, “what could it possibly lead to?”

as you said those words, the reality of it all was coming to hit you with a second wave. the crack of what you both hoped to be was audible in the sounds of you settling back into yoongi’s hold, the silent sobs — that you convinced yourself came from the moon and stars, not from your min yoongi — even more so from the silence that came after your speech.

you could’ve asked yoongi to stay, of course you could have — you wanted it more than anything else. but you knew that he would stay and change his mind in a heartbeat if it was for you, and you couldn’t allow your boy to throw away his dreams for something as meaningless as love — or at least, you try to convince yourself it is.

perhaps yoongi would move on, he would find another person and start a family, have three children and a beautiful house and he’d be living off from all the music he gave to the world all this years ago, just like he always dreamed. perhaps you’d only be a fond memory he would look back on from time to time whenever he’d laugh at old memories after a few drinks with his beloved.

or maybe — and dare you say, hopefully — yoongi would never move on, he would work around the clock with the thought of coming back into your arms and nothing else. he would never leave his cheap tiny studio, only stepping outside during the rise of the moon and he would look at the stars, remembering that a person in daegu is in love with him with all they’ve got and that would be enough to keep him company. because you know for a fact, for the way your heart beats at the mere thought of him, that you would never stop loving min yoongi.

at the present, side by side breathing is more than enough.

“the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

and he truly is.

“i can die happy.”

should i make a permanent taglist? idk TELL ME IF U WANNA BE IN IT

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