Chapter Text
Heat waves pool off the concrete parking lot as Yoongi waits, nothing but a large, brown paper bag in his hands. The monotonous buzz of the gate that he had become familiar with over the years seems to ring louder than ever before as the wire fencing slides open. It’s a sight Yoongi never thought he would live to see. He swallows the lump in his throat as he wills his feet to move forward, heavy like weights fighting to keep him in place. He takes a step and then another, and another, and another, until… He’s out. He can hear the gate rattling close behind him, the buzzing loud and howling.
He’s out.
And he’s alone.
No one is waiting for him. No one is there to pick him up. No one is there to take him home. He doesn’t even have a home. He doesn’t have anything. All of his possessions lie in the bag that rests in his hand - his phone and wallet, along with some journals and books. It’s all he has to his name anymore. In this bag is all that’s left of the Min Yoongi that once existed. The phone isn’t even charged and he’s pretty sure everything in his wallet has expired.
He stands there for a while. The guard was at least kind enough to call a cab for him, so he waits for it to arrive. It’s still hard for him to comprehend that he’s on this side of the fence. For so many years he was on the inside, looking out, longing to be out, and now… well, what now? His hands tense around the bag, hugging it close to his chest. His eyes which were once focused down on his shoes rise as he hears the grind of tires against the concrete. His cab is here.
It’s an odd-looking car, nothing like the models he was used to before. Things have changed, he assumes. He climbs into the car, avoiding eye contact with the driver as he sets his bag in the seat beside him. He pulls the seatbelt around him and clicks it shut, only looking up when he hears the shuffle of the driver.
“Where to?” The man asks a bit impatiently.
“Oh,” Yoongi’s voice is soft, barely above a whisper. Where to? He hadn’t thought of that. He has nowhere to go. “Will you take me to a local motel?”
The driver looks him up and down with a cocked eyebrow but shrugs, turning back to face the front. Yoongi looks at his lap as the car jolts forward into a steady drive. He doesn’t think he can stomach watching as he leaves the place he’s spent the last decade and a half. His hands tremble and he tries to keep his breathing steady as he registers the uneven pavement of the parking lot transform into something smoother. Instead of relief he only feels fear.
He wills himself to look up after about a minute of driving. The area looks so different than what he remembers - fifteen years ago there was nothing but trees around. Now there are scattered businesses and residences, appearing more and more the further they drive. Yoongi tries not to notice the almost nervous glances from the driver - he understands the trepidation. He got used to those looks a long time ago.
They pull up to a moderately well-kept building. Yoongi wouldn’t classify it as rundown but it’s far from being an upscale joint. Still, when you have nothing else, you take what you can get. Yoongi thanks the man, scrounging out enough money from his wallet to tip him and cover the fees before he climbs out of the cab. The driver wastes no time in pulling away.
Yoongi takes a hesitant moment to look around. It’s nerve-wracking, how much the area has changed. He didn’t grow up here, but he wasn’t exactly unfamiliar with this town. Before, there was barely anything here. A small diner, a boutique, a small hardware store, a gas station - now, though, there are grocery stores and a bookstore. There’s a bank and a gym and multiple restaurants that Yoongi’s never heard of. Apartment buildings and business offices are scattered around and the streets seem packed - too packed . It’s overwhelming and Yoongi feels his skin crawl with discomfort.
He turns, his bag held close to his chest, and makes his way toward the office. A bell jingles as he opens the door and the small window unit air conditioner rattles loudly in the small room. There’s a young woman behind the desk with her nose buried in some kind of electronic device that Yoongi doesn’t recognize. It’s a long screen with what appears to be controllers on the ends - some kind of gaming device he decides. She pays him no mind as he walks up to the desk.
“Uhm, excuse me,” He clears his throat softly to try and get her attention. She glares at him when she looks up. “S-Sorry to bother you. Is there any availability?”
She sighs dramatically and plops the toy down before grabbing a piece of paper and a clipboard. She tells him to fill out the information and she’ll get him a room - he politely requests a ground floor room as far in the corner as possible and she just mutters a quiet whatever as he fills out the paper. He slides the clipboard back when he’s finished along with some cash and the girl grabs it all. She squints at the paper and looks up at him with furrowed eyebrows.
“Hey, are you the dude from the news?” She asks and Yoongi feels sick.
“Uhm, I guess?”
She raises her eyebrows. “That’s pretty fucked up, dude.” The sentiment is meaningless but Yoongi nods. “Anyway, this is the key card to the room. Far left room at the end. Long-term stays are welcomed but need to be renewed weekly.”
Yoongi hates the way that this stranger already knows he’ll be here for a while. He nods, grabs the card, and thanks her before leaving. The walk toward his room brings memories of just last night. It’s crazy just how much can change in less than a full day - he’s very familiar with how quickly things can change. He looks at the card. How it unlocks the door, he doesn’t know, but when he arrives at the room, he sees a gray box just above the handle. There’s a slot on the top and reasonable logic tells Yoongi to insert the card. A small green light flashes and the door audibly unlocks, letting him in.
He can’t help but stare at the card in confusion as he opens the door.
The room is decent, he guesses. The carpet is a dingy blue and the walls are nicotine yellow, but the bed is neatly made and there’s a small refrigerator in the room with a microwave on top. On the other side of the room, he can see a bathroom sink and a door that most likely leads to the shower and toilet. It’s not much, but it’s more than he’s had to himself in years.
Yoongi drops the bag on the bed and sits down on the edge. His body aches something terrible but he pays it no mind. It’s become a secondary part of him. He pushes against the mattress. It’s soft. The room is hot, he can already feel sweat beading on his forehead, and it smells a bit muggy. He braces his hands on his knees, running his palm along the rough denim of his jeans and he tries to stop the thoughts that race through his head. Over the years he’s gotten rather good at controlling his thoughts. He’s able to go blank and stare into the distance without a single thought or worry in his mind.
It’s the closest he was ever able to get to peace in that place.
-
Yoongi’s been at the motel for two weeks now and he’s lost. He doesn’t seem to be able to fit in with the new advances of the modern world. He’s fifteen years behind everyone else and he doesn’t think he’ll ever catch up.
“We don’t carry those chargers anymore,” The young kid in front of him said, bored. “I don’t think we have for a long time.”
Yoongi looks at the phone in his hand. It’s outdated, he knows, but it’s what he has. How do they not make chargers for it anymore?
The caseworker in charge of his case has tried to help. He got him set up with a bank and did manage to get Yoongi a new phone - he didn’t show Yoongi how to use it though. It still sits on the dresser where he placed it approximately ten days ago, dead. Yoongi went to the local library the other day to use the computers like he did when he was a teenager. He got a lot of weird looks, but his case worker told him that he should try to find an actual apartment instead of living in a motel and Yoongi took his word for it.
Applying was harder than finding viable options and, if it weren’t for the kind librarian who recognized him and sympathized with him, he probably would have given up and just happily stowed away in the motel for the rest of his life. The motel, although it took time to get used to, was becoming a safe haven for him. It provided safety that he hadn’t felt in years. Locks on doors and the privacy of a room were something he had practically forgotten about. The safety of a shower curtain was something to be worshiped now.
It wasn’t all good though.
The motel room was quiet. Too quiet. Every day for the last decade and a half was spent filled with noise. Yelling and screaming and banging and fighting - there was rarely ever a quiet moment. Yoongi had always been good at ignoring his own thoughts, but now, with nothing besides the air conditioner's monotonous rattling, they were much harder to ignore. Before the end of his first day out, he’d ended up at the gas station with a pack of smokes and a case of beer. He’d drunk it all that night in an attempt to block out the memories and thoughts that haunted him.
And it worked.
It had worked too well, if you asked him.
The alcohol has become something of a nightly ritual. The door is to be locked and barricaded with a chair and Yoongi then finds himself in the tub with his blanket and pillows and the case of beer. He prefers to sleep in the tub. The mattress is far too soft and the bathroom door offers extra protection - drinking himself into a stupor each night makes him vulnerable. At least the bathroom keeps him safe.
It’s not much of a life at all, he knows. Waking up just to exist long enough to drink himself asleep again. Yoongi feels like he’ll never catch up to where everyone else is. Fifteen years of his life were stolen by a broken system that never gave him a second glance. He’s broken. He feels lost and he doesn’t think he can ever find a place in this god-forsaken world anymore. He can try to keep running, he can try to keep up, but he’s so far from the finish line, he should just give up now.
Yoongi raises the can of beer to his lips, drinking down the bitter bliss as he takes in the white, plastic shower walls. How much longer is he expected to do this? How long can anyone expect him to go? Does anyone even care? The answer is no, Yoongi knows that. Anyone who cared about him before abandoned him. The one person who stayed by his side at the start is no longer alive. He’s truly lost everything. The Min Yoongi from fifteen years ago was violently murdered in cold blood.
Why shouldn’t this Min Yoongi join him?
-
He’s made up his mind.
And he’s not going to change it.
There’s nothing left for him and there’s nothing to tether him to this place anymore. Half of his life has been wasted, thrown away like a piece of trash. He doesn’t matter to anyone. One time he was a scapegoat for someone, then he was a pretty news piece, now… he’s nothing. He’s just that random drunk that lives at the motel. Other than a cell phone that he doesn’t know how to use, a few books, and a bank account full of empty apologies, he has nothing to his name.
He has to make some arrangements, he guesses. The money they gave him for his time has to go somewhere and it would be wrong of him to waste it. Maybe he can put it back into the organization that helped him so that someone else can get the help he did. That seems like a pretty good use of it. He’ll speak with a lawyer and make arrangements for it. And then, when he’s content that it’s taken care of, he’ll… do what he needs to.
It’s for the best, he thinks.
-
Yoongi stares at the door in front of him. A small little plaque with D7 is etched into it. He has a duffle bag beside his feet, filled with his books and the few clothes he’s bought himself over the last month. The paper bag he left with needed a bit of an upgrade. A small key burns the palm of his hand.
He’s staring at his apartment.
He has an apartment.
It’s in a quaint apartment block. The building is ten stories tall and made of red brick with white accents. It’s nice. The hallways are clean and the muggy scent of damp mold isn’t present like in the motel. He’s at the end of the hall, too, so his apartment only borders one person. He hopes they’re not too loud.
He unlocks the door and pushes it open. The apartment is unfurnished. They gave him kitchen appliances, but didn’t provide him anything else. It’s fine, he thinks. He won’t be around long enough to need anything anyway. The kitchen is directly to his right, separated by a bar. He sets his bag on the floor. The key hits the counter with a gentle clink. The living room is straight ahead. It’s an open floor plan so there’s no barrier to separate the rooms.
Directly to the left is a small cove with three doors. The one straight ahead is the bathroom - there’s a duo shower and tub and a nice vanity sink. The rooms to the left and right are bedrooms. Yoongi favors the bedroom on the right, farthest away from the entrance to the apartment. It’s bright inside. There are no curtains on the windows and the blinds have been left open - despite being four stories in the air, he closes them for privacy. There’s a small closet in the far left corner of the room, neighboring the entrance door. When he looks inside he finds that it’s somewhat small - it looks cozy, though.
His footsteps echo through the room as he walks toward the center of the room. He eases himself onto the floor, crossing his legs underneath him. The room feels huge. He’s not used to so much space. Even the motel was a lot to get used to so this… it’s a bit overwhelming. Yoongi rubs his hands along his jeans, looking around. He won’t be here for long, but he’s grateful he’s in a somewhat nice place till then.