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writetomyheart2015-10-12 12:26 am
goodbyelover.livejournal.com) wrote in writetomyheart2015-10-12 12:26 am
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[Team Sonic] the stairs creak, i should sleep
Basically this is a mess because I am still in the process of rediscovering (!!!) my writing style, also I ship ALL THE SUGA THINGS and I can't even tell you how bad it's becoming. Anyway. sugajin insomnia things that got really mangled because I developed pacing problems. Whoops. So much swears.
First word from here
Before, sleep had never been easy. Yoongi had been a fussy infant and a nightmare as a toddler. It hadn’t been until he was nearly a teenager that he’d learned to keep it to himself, learned how to sneak flashlights and books, games and snacks, extra homework, anything to pass the time as sleep eluded him, even if he knew that the alarm would go off, and school was waiting to devour his every waking second.
(He crashed, sometimes, during the last period, or he’d crashed at home. His friends learned that if they invited him over, naps weren’t optional.)
Insomnia, they told him when he was young and it felt like it had been days since he’d last had a proper dream, and his mother stood next to him, tired and worried. There was medication, but sometimes, sometimes that made it worse.
It did make it worse. Yoongi stopped taking them after two weeks of exhausting nightmares and disturbing sleeptalking. He stopped talking about it as well, because his mom didn’t get it and his friends didn’t really get it either. They didn’t get that it was more than his sleep patterns being messed up because of late nights, they didn’t get that sometimes Yoongi was ready to cry because he just wanted his mind to empty and to sleep but there were sirens in his head and so he stared at the ceiling instead.
So sleep, sleep had never been easy.
Now it felt impossible.
Yoongi had actually not slept in days, hands possessively wrapped around his coffee mug as he tried to shut out the morning chatter as the other boys showed up for breakfast. Did they have schedules today? Damned if he knew. He was lucky he knew it was Tuesday... It was Tuesday, right? He couldn’t remember where he’d left his phone this time. He didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to deal with the noise that would follow, because Hoseok had just bounded into the room. It had to be a Tuesday but maybe without schedules, since they’d just ended their debut promotions.
“Yoongi, you’ve got to stop spending nights in the studio,” Seokjin said as he passed by, scowling at Yoongi. “Jesus, you look like shit.”
“Fuck off,” Yoongi muttered, more a passing comment than anything else, though there was always that prickle of irritation under his skin. Seokjin did this sometimes, tried to be the boss, tried to change things as if Yoongi hadn’t been trying for years.
“No, I’m serious,” Seokjin pressed, because he could never quit when he needed to, and the room got unsettlingly quiet as he continued on, and oh, it wasn’t just under his skin, starting to pull to the surface, waiting to erupt. “There’s no way they can cake enough makeup under your eyes for tomorrow, you need to sleep, Yoongi.”
And that was enough, the spark to make all ignite and Yoongi’s dropping his coffee mug before he even registers it, whipping to round on Seokjin. The mug shattered to his side and Jungkook let out a startled gasp, but Yoongi’s gaze had locked on Seokjin. “Maybe I’m too fucking busy trying to write music that’ll make up for your fucking pathetic excuse of a voice,” he snarled, and there was something dark and ugly in his voice, but he was too tired to reel it back in.
“Yoongi,” Namjoon began, voice low with both worry and warning.
“No, you fucking butt out,” Yoongi snapped, still staring furiously at Seokjin, who didn’t back down, just clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. “You think you’re so good at this, but fuck you.”
“Yoongi, fuck off,” Seokjin said, lips twisting unhappily. “All I was saying is that you’re pushing it too much and that’s not just a concern for you, but for all of us. We’re a group now. It’s pretty damn permanent.”
“I don’t choose to not fucking sleep,” and Yoongi was screaming before he realized it, and Jungkook and Hoseok visibly paled, and Taehyung quietly retreated into the little comfort his hoodie offered, and it had been so long since Yoongi had lost it, but he was so tired. “You know what else is permanent? This,” and he wrenched a hand up to gesture at himself, trying to ignore the way his hand trembled, or the fact that his vision was blurring.. “It’s called insomnia and it doesn’t motherfucking quit so just go shove your head back up your ass so you can keep your nose out of my fucking business.”
And he must have pushed too far, somewhere in there, because Seokjin had gone quiet, startled, taken aback, and it should have been a victory except the tears on Yoongi’s cheeks burned with shame as he stormed away, slamming the bedroom door shut behind him. (If he could piece together more cohesive thoughts, he’d regret that he retreated deeper into the dorm instead of leaving, now effectively trapped.)
Tears, unwanted and distressing, began to fall as he huddled under the blankets and tried to forget about the scene in the kitchen. He didn’t need the questions, the misunderstandings, the pointless suggestions (he needed sleep, needed sleep, needed sleep).
The door opened, soft footsteps padding towards his bed, and he didn’t even need to raise his head to know it was Seokjin.
(It make the guilt sink deeper into him. Exhaustion did not excuse thoughtlessness.)
Bed dipping beneath his weight, Seokjin gently rested his hand against Yoongi’s back, rubbing gently (Seokjin didn’t have a title to call him the caretaker of the group, but he was an angel all the same).
“I’m sorry,” Seokjin whispered, and when Yoongi didn’t try to shake him off, he leaned over, carefully draping his body over Yoongi’s, chin tucked on his arm. “I should have realized, I’m sorry, Yoongi.”
“Didn’t want you to kn-know,” Yoongi muttered, palms pressed against his eyes, hating the way his voice caught. And just like the flood before, words are pouring from his mouth again. “I hate it. I want to claw my skin off because I stare at the ceiling and nothing moves and it’s quiet and I’m alone and I hate it so goddamn much.” He was tired of being tired, but there was too much running through his mind, winding through his body.
“Shhh,” Seokjin said, a gentle hand against Yoongi’s hair. “It’s okay… I didn’t realize, and that’s not something easy to go through.”
“I didn’t mean to yell at you,” Yoongi said, his voice in a quiver again as he twisted to face Seokjin, biting back a second wave of tears. “I shouldn’t have said any of that.”
(Angel, Seokjin was one of those when he smiled.)
“I know,” Seokjin said, and settled down on the bed, carefully rearranging the two of them so he could tuck Yoongi against his side, and it was so protective and safe, and Yoongi hadn’t known it could be like that with Seokjin. “Namjoonie’s talking to the boss, see if we can skip dance practice for today....” He trailed off, nudged at Yoongi’s shoulder so he’d look up at him. “Don’t force yourself to try and sleep… but we can stay like this for a while, if you’d like?”
Yoongi let out a watery, confused noise and pressed his face to Seokjin’s sweater. Truth to be told, his body was already slumping, finally releasing him from the clutches of wakefulness, and Seokjin was stroking at his hair again. He had questions, wanted to know why Seokjin had to be so stupidly nice, and why it felt better like this, but the haze that had teased him for so long finally enveloped him.
Yoongi was asleep within five minutes.
First word from here
Before, sleep had never been easy. Yoongi had been a fussy infant and a nightmare as a toddler. It hadn’t been until he was nearly a teenager that he’d learned to keep it to himself, learned how to sneak flashlights and books, games and snacks, extra homework, anything to pass the time as sleep eluded him, even if he knew that the alarm would go off, and school was waiting to devour his every waking second.
(He crashed, sometimes, during the last period, or he’d crashed at home. His friends learned that if they invited him over, naps weren’t optional.)
Insomnia, they told him when he was young and it felt like it had been days since he’d last had a proper dream, and his mother stood next to him, tired and worried. There was medication, but sometimes, sometimes that made it worse.
It did make it worse. Yoongi stopped taking them after two weeks of exhausting nightmares and disturbing sleeptalking. He stopped talking about it as well, because his mom didn’t get it and his friends didn’t really get it either. They didn’t get that it was more than his sleep patterns being messed up because of late nights, they didn’t get that sometimes Yoongi was ready to cry because he just wanted his mind to empty and to sleep but there were sirens in his head and so he stared at the ceiling instead.
So sleep, sleep had never been easy.
Now it felt impossible.
Yoongi had actually not slept in days, hands possessively wrapped around his coffee mug as he tried to shut out the morning chatter as the other boys showed up for breakfast. Did they have schedules today? Damned if he knew. He was lucky he knew it was Tuesday... It was Tuesday, right? He couldn’t remember where he’d left his phone this time. He didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to deal with the noise that would follow, because Hoseok had just bounded into the room. It had to be a Tuesday but maybe without schedules, since they’d just ended their debut promotions.
“Yoongi, you’ve got to stop spending nights in the studio,” Seokjin said as he passed by, scowling at Yoongi. “Jesus, you look like shit.”
“Fuck off,” Yoongi muttered, more a passing comment than anything else, though there was always that prickle of irritation under his skin. Seokjin did this sometimes, tried to be the boss, tried to change things as if Yoongi hadn’t been trying for years.
“No, I’m serious,” Seokjin pressed, because he could never quit when he needed to, and the room got unsettlingly quiet as he continued on, and oh, it wasn’t just under his skin, starting to pull to the surface, waiting to erupt. “There’s no way they can cake enough makeup under your eyes for tomorrow, you need to sleep, Yoongi.”
And that was enough, the spark to make all ignite and Yoongi’s dropping his coffee mug before he even registers it, whipping to round on Seokjin. The mug shattered to his side and Jungkook let out a startled gasp, but Yoongi’s gaze had locked on Seokjin. “Maybe I’m too fucking busy trying to write music that’ll make up for your fucking pathetic excuse of a voice,” he snarled, and there was something dark and ugly in his voice, but he was too tired to reel it back in.
“Yoongi,” Namjoon began, voice low with both worry and warning.
“No, you fucking butt out,” Yoongi snapped, still staring furiously at Seokjin, who didn’t back down, just clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. “You think you’re so good at this, but fuck you.”
“Yoongi, fuck off,” Seokjin said, lips twisting unhappily. “All I was saying is that you’re pushing it too much and that’s not just a concern for you, but for all of us. We’re a group now. It’s pretty damn permanent.”
“I don’t choose to not fucking sleep,” and Yoongi was screaming before he realized it, and Jungkook and Hoseok visibly paled, and Taehyung quietly retreated into the little comfort his hoodie offered, and it had been so long since Yoongi had lost it, but he was so tired. “You know what else is permanent? This,” and he wrenched a hand up to gesture at himself, trying to ignore the way his hand trembled, or the fact that his vision was blurring.. “It’s called insomnia and it doesn’t motherfucking quit so just go shove your head back up your ass so you can keep your nose out of my fucking business.”
And he must have pushed too far, somewhere in there, because Seokjin had gone quiet, startled, taken aback, and it should have been a victory except the tears on Yoongi’s cheeks burned with shame as he stormed away, slamming the bedroom door shut behind him. (If he could piece together more cohesive thoughts, he’d regret that he retreated deeper into the dorm instead of leaving, now effectively trapped.)
Tears, unwanted and distressing, began to fall as he huddled under the blankets and tried to forget about the scene in the kitchen. He didn’t need the questions, the misunderstandings, the pointless suggestions (he needed sleep, needed sleep, needed sleep).
The door opened, soft footsteps padding towards his bed, and he didn’t even need to raise his head to know it was Seokjin.
(It make the guilt sink deeper into him. Exhaustion did not excuse thoughtlessness.)
Bed dipping beneath his weight, Seokjin gently rested his hand against Yoongi’s back, rubbing gently (Seokjin didn’t have a title to call him the caretaker of the group, but he was an angel all the same).
“I’m sorry,” Seokjin whispered, and when Yoongi didn’t try to shake him off, he leaned over, carefully draping his body over Yoongi’s, chin tucked on his arm. “I should have realized, I’m sorry, Yoongi.”
“Didn’t want you to kn-know,” Yoongi muttered, palms pressed against his eyes, hating the way his voice caught. And just like the flood before, words are pouring from his mouth again. “I hate it. I want to claw my skin off because I stare at the ceiling and nothing moves and it’s quiet and I’m alone and I hate it so goddamn much.” He was tired of being tired, but there was too much running through his mind, winding through his body.
“Shhh,” Seokjin said, a gentle hand against Yoongi’s hair. “It’s okay… I didn’t realize, and that’s not something easy to go through.”
“I didn’t mean to yell at you,” Yoongi said, his voice in a quiver again as he twisted to face Seokjin, biting back a second wave of tears. “I shouldn’t have said any of that.”
(Angel, Seokjin was one of those when he smiled.)
“I know,” Seokjin said, and settled down on the bed, carefully rearranging the two of them so he could tuck Yoongi against his side, and it was so protective and safe, and Yoongi hadn’t known it could be like that with Seokjin. “Namjoonie’s talking to the boss, see if we can skip dance practice for today....” He trailed off, nudged at Yoongi’s shoulder so he’d look up at him. “Don’t force yourself to try and sleep… but we can stay like this for a while, if you’d like?”
Yoongi let out a watery, confused noise and pressed his face to Seokjin’s sweater. Truth to be told, his body was already slumping, finally releasing him from the clutches of wakefulness, and Seokjin was stroking at his hair again. He had questions, wanted to know why Seokjin had to be so stupidly nice, and why it felt better like this, but the haze that had teased him for so long finally enveloped him.
Yoongi was asleep within five minutes.
no subject
I really liked the way Yoongi was so tired and lashed out but didn't give himself a free pass, because that's not okay either, and I'm so glad he could sleep later, even just a bit (I don't know how long).