Work Text:
It’s three in the morning. As far as Yoongi is concerned, the entire outside world is dead. He knows that if he walked outside, no matter where he was, he’d find himself in some kind of post-apocalyptic liminal space disguised as Seoul in the early morning. Can it even be considered morning if the sun isn’t risen and no one is awake? If the buses aren’t running consistently? If birds aren’t chirping, instead replaced by scavengers like mice digging through trash piles? Where a city that’s full of constant movement finds itself at a stand-still, no cars honking, no people chattering, no bells ringing on shop doors as people go in and out?
Of course, who’s to say that Yoongi is actually awake? He’s been lying face down on the sofa in his studio for the past hour, ignoring the feeling of his nose being squashed and his lungs struggling to fill with each breath. But it’s an improvement from feeling his eyes burn and leak from staring at the blue screen of his computer, which he’d been doing for four hours straight. It’s a wonder he hasn’t fucked up his eyesight yet, with how much time he spends staring at screens. Of course, he hasn’t gotten his eyes tested in years… he should probably do that.
He’s startled from his… nap? stupor? Whatever laying face down on a sofa for an hour is called, when there’s an abrupt, rhythmic knock on his door. His arms fail him when he tries to push himself up into a sitting position, and just resorts to rolling over until he's in a crumpled heap on the floor.
“Whosit?” he grumbles, really hoping it’s no one important (of course, no one important would be awake at this hour).
“Me,” an equally groggy voice answers on the other side of the door. “Hope you’re not jerking off, I’m coming in,” and the door is opening to reveal an exhausted looking Jeongguk. His hair is all mussed, like he’d been sweating and let it dry that way, and he’s got a large red splotch on one of his cheeks, almost like he got punched in the face.
“Why’re you awake?” Yoongi asks, waiting to hear any of the usual reasons. He mentally places bets on which one he thinks it’ll be. Right now, there’s a strong indication of dance practice. “And how’d you get that?” he adds, motioning to the redness of Jeongguk’s cheek.
“Dance practice,” Jeongguk answers (Yoongi wishes he actually won something for the bet in his head), and flops down on the couch without further ado. “I fell asleep against the mirror. There’s a greasy outline of my face in practice room five now.”
“Gross,” is all Yoongi replies. He’s still schlumped on the ground uncomfortably, but makes no move to get up. Hey, pick and choose your battles, after all. The two sit in the studio in companionable silence for a bit, existing in the room, the only seemingly alive place in the world right now.
“What are you working on?” Jeongguk finally asks. He’s looking towards the computer, which has been a black screen for a while, but his eyes aren’t focused on anything.
“Nothing,” Yoongi grumbles. Jeongguk just redirects his gaze at the older as if to say yeah, right . Yoongi lets out a long suffering sigh. “Really, nothing. I’ve been staring at a computer screen since we finished practice earlier, but I didn’t even touch my keyboard,” he rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes, like maybe if he rubs out the sleep it’ll make way for more inspiration. “I’m going through such a fucking block right now.”
“You know what they say though, right?” Jeongguk asks, and even though his eyes are still slightly glazed, he no longer appears to be staring at something in the distance that may or may not exist. “Creating something is better than nothing.”
Yoongi just shrugs because he can’t think of something better to do or say. He doesn’t want to be mean, but the thought of creating something just for the sake of pushing through a block sounds terrible, he’s never been a fan of that concept. He’d much rather go on a producing binge when the inspiration hits him hard. But creating something, just to know that he created it, sounds like a waste of time. Particularly because he knows anything he forces himself to create won’t be good enough to use, ever.
“You should go to bed,” he tells Jeongguk, who just rolls his eyes.
“You should go to bed,” the younger echos him in reply.
“Let’s go then,” Yoongi sighs, evidently surprising the younger, if the wide eyes and gaping mouth are anything to go off of. “Shut up, brat.”
“I didn’t say anything!”
“You were thinking too hard,” Yoongi stands up and pulls on his jacket, before reaching out a hand for Jeongguk, who takes it and stands up. “Sometimes I like sleeping in my regular bed, too, you know. This couch is comfy, but it doesn’t make me breakfast like Jin-hyung does.”
*****
It’s about a week later that fate finds the two in a similar situation. Late into the night, early into the morning, the entire world on hold from the usual hustle and bustle. This time, Yoongi is slumped in his chair in front of the desk, speakers blaring a remix he’d been working on. While he hated the idea, Yoongi had eventually taken Jeongguk’s advice to create something instead of nothing. And since he didn’t feel like wasting all his energy on something useless, remixes were the second closest thing.
A knock on the door. He doesn’t even offer a ‘come in’ before the door is opening, revealing a very sweaty Jeongguk, this time void of the sleepiness he’d personified last time. On the contrary, his eyes are bright and he has a permanent self-satisfied half smile on his face, which means that dance practice was a success. Rather than dancing the same thing over and over, only to mess it up every time, this time he’d probably spent the time freestyling, or at the very least hadn’t repeatedly messed up the choreography.
“Hey hyu-” Jeongguk starts, only to be shushed by the older. He nods, and pulls up a spare chair to Yoongi’s desk to look at the track playing. “Is that… the Wii Shop theme?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi answers absently, pausing the track and clicking to make an edit, before playing it again and listening for the difference. He likes the edit, so he keeps in. He forgets Jeongguk is there until he realizes the spare chair is squeaking because the younger is shaking with laughter. “Yah, what’s funny?”
“You’re remixing Wii themes?” Jeongguk finally laughs out loud, echoing throughout the soundproofed room. “You must really be desperate for inspiration, Hyung.”
“You have no fucking clue, brat,” Yoongi replies onimously, but it’s paired with a chuckle of his own. “There are at least sixty-six themes for the Wii, thirty of which are from the Wii Sports universe alone. This is the fifth remix I've made in the last two days,” he informs, voice dead and eyes void of all emotion, a representation of the block he’s going through. Yoongi lets the song finish before speaking again. “You think I should post this?”
“Yeah, why not?” Jeongguk humors him, gentle smile in place. “Put it on twitter or something, let the fans know you’re just as big a meme as the rest of us.”
“Only if you let me make this picture the cover,” Yoongi pulls out his phone and taps until he finds the freeze frame of Jeongguk from their self-produced Spine Breaker music video. Jeongguk leans in to get a good look, bursting into small giggles when he sees. Yoongi’s heart feels fond.
“Yeah, sure,” Jeongguk agrees, and Yoongi turns back to put finishing touches on the remix and uploads it with a small post.
Wii Shop Re-meme-ix. Listen well.
“Alright,” Yoongi groans as he stretches back in his chair, back cracking at least three times from being hunched over all night (morning?). “Let’s go home.”
The two exit the building, all lights now extinguished, and enter into the post-apocalyptic liminal Seoul. Yoongi feels the tentative reach for his hand, and looks over at Jeongguk, who’s staring resolutely forward and refusing to make eye contact with the older. It’s dark, but Yoongi can see the blush on the younger’s cheeks. He firmly grabs the other’s hand and bumps their shoulders together, a muttered brat under his breath.
They walk like that the rest of the way home, the still darkness shrouding them in their own little bubble. Yoongi laughs softly at the way Jeongguk hurriedly kisses him on the cheek and practically flies into his room, shutting the door much too loudly for how quiet the rest of the dorm is. He’s about to walk away when the door cracks open, revealing a sliver of Jeongguk, eyes wide.
“Goodnight, hyung,” he whispers softly before closing the door again. Yoongi smiles and disappears down the dark hallway to his room.
He thinks, as his heavy eyelids close on their own accord as soon as his head hits the pillow, maybe he’ll try writing some lyrics tomorrow. He’s got a good feeling, maybe even inspired.