Chapter Text
As he gazes upon the painting, an abstract concoction of vibrant hues elegantly adorning the pristine white canvas, he finds himself lost in its enigmatic allure.
His attention then shifts downward to the shelf below, adorned with an array of trophies, each one a testament to various accomplishments and triumphs.
Casting his gaze towards the adjacent wall, which beholds a collection of framed certifications, each representing a milestone in a journey of success.
Above them all, an old-fashioned analogue clock with a swinging pendulum catches his eye, its rhythmic oscillations marking the passage of time with a steady cadence.
Tic tok tic tok tic tok tic–
"Min Yoongi?" His psychiatrist's voice breaks his reverie, redirecting his attention to the woman seated before him on a cushioned chair.
"Sorry... Where was I?" He straightens himself in his seat, his clammy hands gripping the armrests a tad too tightly.
"You trailed off after mentioning that your fame grew unexpectedly," the psychiatrist calmly remarks, holding a medium-sized notebook and pen.
"Right, sorry. So, back then, I didn't expect this surge in fame. I thought I'd only be an underground rapper or music producer, yet somehow, I ended up becoming an idol. I gained millions of fans, my albums sold out worldwide, and my world tour earned a fortune..." He pauses again, glancing down at his feet clad in black Converse shoes, fidgeting with a lone string hanging from the laces with his other toe.
"That's great, Yoongi-ssi. I'm sure you deserve the fame and love. I will not lie, your music is really pleasing," she says. He nods, still not lifting his gaze from his fiddling toes.
"Are you not happy with it, Yoongi-ssi?" she asks gently, causing Yoongi to halt his movements. He remains silent for a while, his mind drifting to memories and past experiences.
"It's not that. I am happy with my achievements, but I don't feel as content as I thought I would," he admits, finally looking up at his psychiatrist, who jots down some notes. "It's... It's confusing me. This is all I've ever wanted. Fame, love, and money. I have it all, yet I'm not content, and it's not even like I want any more of these. Would you believe me if I say something?"
His psychiatrist nods, listening to his sorrows patiently.
"I feel like..." He takes a deep breath. "I don't belong." He watches the psychiatrist write something in her notebook again before taking off her glasses and placing them on her lap. She looks up at him with gentle, reassuring eyes.
"Yoongi-ssi, I can't say I completely understand your situation, but I won't judge you. Would you mind elaborating? What exactly do you feel?" she asks, her voice soft enough only for him to hear.
"I don't understand either. I feel like all this fame isn't for me, like I don't belong here," he confesses in distress. "I-I feel like this life is not for me." She nods, wearing her glasses again and writing some more notes.
"Yoongi-ssi, it's completely okay to feel this way. You don't have to beat yourself up for it. Tell me, is that the reason for your early retirement?" Yoongi nods. "Okay. So, what do you plan on doing now?"
"I'm not sure, but I need some time away from the public, from this life. I'm planning to temporarily move into my family house in the outskirts of Daegu. It's a bit secluded from the general public, and my closest neighbors are farmers," he explains, clasping his clammy hands together over his lap.
"That's a great choice, Yoongi-ssi. I'm glad you're taking action to improve your mental health," She smiles. "It's completely understandable that you need some time away from your fame. What do you plan on doing there?"
"I haven't decided yet, but I think I'll start by renovating the house myself. I'll think about what to do next after I'm done with it."
"That's wonderful, Yoongi-ssi. It will definitely keep your mind off unwanted thoughts and distress. When are you departing?"
"Friday. I plan on leaving right after I settle some terms with my label."
"Then I believe we have to conclude our sessions for good today," the psychiatrist smiles faintly, and Yoongi nods. "It was nice having you. I hope my guidance has helped you somehow."
"It has helped a lot, thank you so much," Yoongi replies, standing up and bowing to show his gratitude. Albeit nothing had helped, he is still grateful to have the weight off his shoulders by talking to someone.
"My pleasure," she stands up and bows back. "Remember, you can call me anytime if you need advice or if you feel lost. I'll be happy to help you."
"Sure, I will. I'll leave now. Thanks again," he bids goodbye, retrieving his black mask and goggles from his pocket before putting them on.
He opens the door and steps outside, into the bustling street, where people walk and mind their own business, not recognizing him or even noticing him.
He wishes it could be like that all the time, without him needing to wear a mask or goggles to hide his identity, without needing to have tinted car windows or all black clothing to blend in.
He wants to blend in, wants to belong, wants to be able walk on streets freely and play with the children sees in the playground near his company. But it is not possible now, for his own safety at least, as his manager's words.
He walks towards his parked car and sits inside, starting the ignition and clutching onto the wheel before driving off to his penthouse.
-
On Friday, Yoongi's brain was practically fried. His manager and boss refused to budge on paying him eighty percent of the earnings from his last tour.
They argued that his sudden retirement would incur significant losses for them, insisting that they should be compensated for that loss. They were only willing to offer him forty percent of what he had earned.
With no other recourse, Yoongi had to involve a lawyer. After some intimidating negotiations, they finally agreed to settle on paying him sixty-five percent of his earnings.
Despite knowing he deserved more, Yoongi didn't want to get entangled in prolonged disputes with his label, especially on his last day in Seoul. Reluctantly, he agreed to accept a paycheck representing sixty-five percent of his earnings. He simply couldn't bear to remain there any longer.
Upon his return home, it was already a quarter to six at evening. He had already planned to depart at 11 o'clock at night since he was more of a night owl, and also, an insomniac.
He estimated that he would arrive at his destination around three or four in the morning. It is a better choice, really. He wouldn't have to put up with any traffic or the scorching heat of the sun.
His belongings were packed and ready to accompany him, consisting of only one suitcase filled with clothes and a big duffle bag containing his essentials and toiletries. He left all the clothes provided by his label back at the company, not wanting to take anything that did not belong to him entirely.
He decided it was best for him to take a long nap since he was already exhausted in the first place. So he set an alarm for 10 o'clock and headed to bed, not bothering to change into a decent nightwear, opting to sleep with only a pair of boxer shorts as peice of clothing.
Time passed sooner than he expected when the obnoxious blaring of his alarm woke him up from his slumber. He hadn't realised that he would actually fall asleep instantly after laying down. Perhaps, the label really exhausted him to the core.
He got up, thankful that he wore only boxer shorts to sleep as he was fully covered in sweat. The air conditioning was broken and he did not bother to fix it since he would be leaving the penthouse for a while anyway. There was no point in wasting his hard-earned money.
He went to take a cold, long bath, in order to feel refreshed and stay awake the whole ride. The bath took him around forty minutes before he emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed, only a pair of jeans and loose white button-up, and ready to leave.
He tucked his phone and wallet into his pocket, flung his duffle bag over his shoulder, grabbed the handle of his suitcase and walked towards the shoe-rack. He shoved his feet in his Converse shoes, those were the only shoes he was taking with him along with a pair of house slippers.
He plucked the family house's keys from the little key holder on the wall, letting it fall in his pocket, joining the car key. He looked around the penthouse one last time, everything pretty much the same, except that his tiny studio now stayed empty.
He had decided to sell his music equipment, not because he wasn't fond of music anymore, but because he did not want it to lay unused and collect dust since he wouldn't take it with him, he wants to take a break from producing music after all.
He believes it would at least take about a year and half for him to return back in Seoul. He doesn't want to leave behind something he genuinely loves like this. Therefore, it was for the best to sell it to some other artist who would use it as it should be used.
He unlocked his main door and went inside the elevator. He waited until he was down at the parking lot. It was mostly empty, two or three cars there along with his own.
His neighbours, who were also celebrities, were probably working late. It was truly sad that he couldn't bid them farewell for a last time, but any kind of human interaction seemed preposterous to him.
He pulled the car key out of his pocket, pressing the unlock button as he walked out the elevator. He heard the loud beep of his car from a distance and walked towards it. Sometimes he forgets where he had parked his car so he needs to find it this way, he only hopes he didn't wake his other neighbours.
Upon reaching his parked car, he opened the trunk and loaded his big suitcase and bag inside. Then, he hopped behind the wheel and started the ignition. The car's headlight lit up, giving him a better view of the otherwise dim parking lot.
Once he had successfully gotten out the apartment complex, he was off to the road to Daegu.
-
Yoongi had always regretted his choices. From the day he started going to med-school because he wanted to make his parents proud to his numerous toxic relationships. He had never made a good decision that would benefit him, only leading to trouble and mayhem.
Just like now, as he struggled to keep his eyes open, driving recklessly in an unpaved, bumpy path leading towards his family house. He knew he should have stopped by at a gas station to buy some snacks and energy drinks. Especially the energy drinks.
He rubbed his eyeballs that were already red from previous rubbing and lack of sleep. Damn his know-it-all self to believe that he wouldn't be drowsy during the trip just because he couldn't sleep in the comfort of his bed at night.
He opened his eyes wide to focus on the bumpy road ahead of him. He wanted to reach early and he was successfully in Daegu before due time.
It was around half past two in the morning, as he checked, and that is what motivated him to not stop at the last gas station before turning into the unpaved path between a forest leading to his family house.
He thought ignoring his droopy eyes for another hour would be a piece of cake, landing him a world record for reaching his family house in four hours or something.
"Fuck." He curses for the nth time, rubbing his reddening eyes once more.
He suddenly felt the front tire bump on something before the whole car swerved into the side. That woke him up instantly as he tried to get a hold of the steering, kicking the breaks as hard as he can.
That did nothing.
He watched from the windshield as a huge tree trunk approached the car. His last resort was to pull the handbrake and pray that his car does not crash into the tree. He did so and braced for the impact from the crash, but nothing came.
Thankfully, pulling the handbrake worked as the car came to a halt right in front of the tree, the bonnet slightly touching the trunk.
He panted, gasping in a huge chunk of air, heart pounding in his chest. His hands were sweaty, despite his car being cool from the (now turned off) air-con, as he desperately gripped onto the wheel.
After his palpating heart came to a steady rhythm, he turned the key to start the ignition again. No avail. It just whirrs a little before going silent again. He tried three more times, only to be disappointed by the lack of results.
He unbuckled his seatbelt before opening the door and stepping out of the car. He glanced at the front tires, pretty sure that both were bummed.
He grasped onto his hair in frustration as he looked around. He was in the middle of the forest and the main road was probably a few kilometres away, he possibly couldn't walk that far, not with his knee injury.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tried to call his manager. No signal. "Fuck fuck fuck!" He kicked the useless tire in frustration.
He's in the middle of nowhere, his car is bummed, his phone has no signal and it's almost three in the morning. He gives up, having no clue as to how he would get out of this situation.
He was about to get inside his car and rest until the sun comes up, when a sudden flash of light hit his eyes, the organ instinctively closing at the unexpected brightness. "Who is there?" He hears the deep voice of a man call out from a distance.
He immediately started to wave his arms in the air. "Over here! Please help me!" He shouted, looking at the direction of the blinding light. He hears the sputtering of a vehicle coming closer to him, upon closer inspection, it turns out to be a jeep.
The jeep pulls up at a safe distance from him before the blinding headlight turned off. He could see the dim figure of a man hop out of the jeep, a familiar object strapped over his back that gives him the shivers.
It was a shotgun.
The man turned on a flashlight, the brightness a little lower and less blinding than the headlight of the jeep. Yoongi could see the man a little better now, and boy was it so better.
Saying the man was muscular would be an understatement, the man was ripped. His monstrous inked biceps were so huge Yoongi almost drooled a little. His huge pecks and eight packs were bulging through his black vest.
Then Yoongi looked at his face, he couldn't believe it belonged the humongous body. His face looked like the man was not a day older than twenty-five. Big doe eyes, thick eyebrows etched into a frown, high nose bridge, and pink pouty lips with a mole underneath. Absolutely gorgeous.
He could see the lips moving but he couldn't hear anything, until the man shouted at him. He blinks his eyes and breaks himself out of the haze. "S-Sorry, I couldn't hear you." He says hesitantly.
"I'm asking who the hell are you and why are you here? This is a private property!" Yoongi flinched as the man shouts at him. He was amused at the audacity of this man, this was his private property.
"My name is Min Yoongi, mister. And this private property is mine." He states calmly, not letting his intrusive thoughts, telling him to yell back at this man, win.
The man pauses at the statement, his eyes visibly widening and furrowed brows rising. "You're a Min?" The man asks as if he couldn't believe his ears. Yoongi nods. "But I wasn't informed of any Min coming here, at this hour."
"You're right. I haven't informed anyone. But who are you? I've never seen or heard about a man living here before. I've only known of a lady caretaker living here." Yoongi mumbles, growing suspicious of this unknown man.
The man hesitates for a moment, his gaze shifting away from Yoongi's prying eyes. "She was a relative of mine. Died a year ago. I've been taking care of the property ever since. The old Min knows about me."
Old Min, Yoongi's grandfather. He's a reputable man, pride and high self-esteem ran in his veins. He isn't too fond of Yoongi, not understanding the industry of music and entertainment. All he knew was reputed professions like doctors and lawyers.
Though, he couldn't deny the fact that Yoongi earned a lot of money, hence never really opposing his career. He could tell the old man still held a grudge towards him, never picking up his calls or answering his e-mails. Yoongi had given up a long time ago.
This is why he hadn't informed his family of coming here. This property belonged to his grandfather, after all. It's not like he isn't allowed here or his grandfather hates him. They could just never connect with each other enough to communicate.
"Okay," Yoongi nods, "My car has broken down. The front tires are flat and the engine wouldn't start. Would you mind giving me a ride back to the house?"
The man nods, waving an arm to let him know that he could get on the jeep. "Hang on. Let me get my luggage." Yoongi says, already turning around to open his trunk when a hand grips onto his wrist.
He turns around, stunned by the man's dauntless behaviour. "What are you-"
"Let me." The man tells him, stretching his palm out, asking for the key. Yoongi looks at him for a moment, bewildered by his actions. He hesitantly gives the key to the man, watching carefully as he goes to open the trunk.
He watched as the man opens it and pulls out his duffle bag first, flinging it across his shoulder, the strap joining the other strap belonging to his shotgun making a cross over his chest. He pulls out the suitcase next and Yoongi gasps. The man picks it up and holds it over his shoulder like it weighs nothing.
Yoongi could see his biceps bulging, looking even bigger than before. He wouldn't deny that he felt aroused by this sight. He wondered how easily the man could pick him up and throw him around. His size kink was not helping at all in this situation.
He looked away when he saw the man approaching as he caressed his own arm with the other hand in embarrassment. The man seemed not to notice his blushing cheeks, either because of the darkness or because he just did not see it.
The man carefully placed his luggage at the back of the jeep, and walked forward to jump behind the wheel. "Hop on." He says turning to face Yoongi.
He scruples for a moment, looking back at his broken down car beside the huge tree he was about to crash into. "Don't worry about it. I'll fix it in the morning." The man assures. Yoongi nods before climbing onto the passenger seat.
The man swiped the key and turned the ignition on, pulling the gear into reverse and reversed the jeep in order to turn it around.
Yoongi thinks it's impossible, the path is way too narrow and the road is incredibly bumpy, but he was proved wrong when the man swiftly turns the jeep around and starts driving at the direction of the house.
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