"What the hell is wrong with you lately?” Yoongi’s gaze cuts through him like a knife. He’s sure his heart stops in his chest as those dark eyes bore into him as if he were a criminal that was about to be handed a life sentence for a crime he never committed. “You know, for a guy who acts like he’s clueless ninety percent of the time, you sure ask a lot of questions.” “That’s because no one will answer them,” He whispers, suddenly unsure of himself as his gaze drops down to his shoes. Yoongi takes a step forward, pushing him closer to the wall until his back is flush against it. “What is that supposed to mean?” He glances back up, deep into Yoongi’s dead eyes and immediately knows it’s a mistake. This isn’t the Yoongi that he knows, the hyung who was kind and funny and present. That Yoongi is gone, replaced by someone who looks just like him, save for the eyes that are almost clouded over, as if the Yoongi in front of him right now had no idea himself what was going on around him. Because the Yoongi he knows would never be like this with him. He has to believe that.

Drama / Thriller
Age Rating:

My head is haunting me...

“What do you remember?”

The eyes that stare into him from behind thick framed glasses do not waver for a second, not even to blink, scared perhaps that they might miss something. Perhaps he might do something worthy of them writing down in their notebook resting on the table in front of him. No, that’s not it. He’s sure that it’s neither of these things that are causing the intense stare to be directed at him, not even close. They’re waiting for him to crack, waiting for an opening that they can use to their advantage, no matter how small.

He says nothing in reply, not for the sake of being uncooperative, but for the reason that he doesn’t have anything to tell them, not anything new anyway.

In truth he’s already told the man everything that he could, but that in its self wasn’t that much as, just like he’s asking, he doesn’t remember.

“Things aren’t going to go any easier for you if you continue to feign innocence.” The man pauses to push up the glasses that had slid to the end of his long pointed nose. “You look as guilty as anyone else I’ve ever had to deal with.”

He makes no move to show the man that he’s listening, continuing to stare at the wood of the table, memorising the grains running through it in an effort to convince himself that this isn’t his reality.

“Min Yoongi!” The man’s voice booms through the small room and he feels it shoot straight down his spine. He looks up slowly, staring at the man through his fringe that has been allowed to grow just that little bit too long in his detainment. The light strands allow for easier sight through it, but the tickle on the bridge of his nose is at most times distracting.

“Well, at least you remember your own name,” The man mutters under his breath, the small size of the room making it easy for Yoongi to catch them.

He flexes his hands, feeling a pulling at the skin of his wrists. He doesn’t need to look down to know that his hands are strapped under the metal rungs of the chair. The meta pinching at his tender skin with every movement.

“You do know what they’re planning on doing to you, right?” The man speaks again; his tone growing increasingly frustrated the longer Yoongi remains mute. He leans forward on the table, the stale coffee lingering on his breath causes Yoongi to hold his. “If you think that what you’re going through now is fucked up, then you’re going to absolutely hate what’s going to happen to you next. You’re going to wish you could come back out and see me.”

Yoongi knows that if he ever sees the man’s face again it will be too soon. Yet he won’t give him the satisfaction of believing that he’s hit a nerve. He knows that he’s only trying to get under his skin, because what could be worse than sitting in this room with the same man he’s known for a little over a month now restrained to a chair?

Finally he laughs; causing the man to blink for what he thinks is the first time.

Yoongi laughs because despite what he could say to the man and as much as he could struggle there’s no denying the fact that he’s only minutes away from finding out what real hell is.

There doesn’t seem to be anything else that he can do.

The man’s face twists into cold, hard dislike which only prompts Yoongi to laugh harder. If he had a hand free he would have slapped it on the table, instead he opts to stamping his feet on the floor. The noise echoes through the room, rattling him to his bones.

“You really are fucking crazy,” The man spits, turning his nose up at him and storms out of the room.

He should have taken the investigator at his word when he told him that things were about to get a lot worse for him. But honestly Yoongi didn’t want to believe a single thing that came out of that man’s mouth, the mere thought made him sick to his stomach. Yet here he was, sitting in a smooth leather chair on one side of a large stained wood desk waiting for the woman slouching on the other side to tell him just what the fuck is going on.

He’d been dragged from the cold concrete walls of the cell he’d come to know somewhat intimately over the time he’d been kept there, to a large stone building, filled with so many variations of white that he didn’t even know existed.

The team of people, never less than five with the inclusion of an armed guard, leading him around often commented about how good he was being, not making a scene or resisting, Yoongi will admit it was hard to struggle when he’s been doped up with medications he won’t even attempt to pronounce.

They’d taken him to a room where he was presented with a pair of his own jeans, a plain black shirt two sizes too big for him and a simple pair of black slippers, no laces or belts he notices. He’s surprised by the fact that he’s allowed to wear his own clothes, he’d assumed that he’d be given a simple pair of cotton whites and socks if he was lucky, but this almost seemed like a luxury to him. A certain comfort that only he would be able to understand.

Honestly he wasn’t sure he’d be privy to either of those anymore.

They’d asked if he felt more comfortable now he was in his own clothes a question to which he only shrugged, he’d be more comfortable if he was in his own house, and allowed them to lead him to where he was now sat.

He notices the desk in front of him is void of any object that could be used as a weapon in any form. The only things placed upon it is a pile of papers he assumes is his admission file and a mug of what he guesses is coffee judging from the aroma, though by the lack of steam rising from the top he knows it’s gone cold, having been forgotten on the desk. He can’t help but notice the fact that it has been placed close to her elbow, too far away for him to reach without getting up and taking a step.

Essentially deemed a safe distance.

“Min Yoongi. Twenty three years old.” The woman finally begins, glancing down at the papers in front of her as she does. “Court ordered admittance. Dissociation amnesia.” She glances up at him finally, staring at him with hard eyes before looking down at the papers again. She’s beautiful he deduces a scary kind of beautiful with sharp eyes and a sharp nose, foreign of course, judging by her slight accent he guesses England, but which part he’s not sure. “Symptoms not limited to anxiety, delusions…” She continues before cuttings herself off again her eyes still scanning, though Yoongi feels as though she has more to add as she looks at him again, folding her hands together on the desk.

“Well Min Yoongi, it will be interesting getting to know you.”

He doubts that.

She’s quiet again as she flips through the pages, reading quickly and moving on. Eventually she looks up, glancing behind him to the guard standing at the door.

“You’ll be taken to your room now to get settled in. Someone will come and collect you when it’s time for your meal.” She dismisses him, not looking at him longer than a few seconds before her eyes are once again reading, her brow crinkling slightly causing fine lines to appear on her forehead.

He remains seated, glaring at her as if it would make her look up. “That’s it?”

She looks at him, offering a small professional smile. “Yes Mr. Min that is all. Now please, you will be escorted to your room.”

He feels the presence of the guard behind him; they grab his arm just under the elbow and force him to stand, leading him he assumes they believe, gently to the door without a word.

They walk him down a long corridor, the walls the same shade of white as the foyer and office he’d passed through earlier. He briefly wonders if they know that it’s not the best colour choice. He can feel the sanity slowly draining from him the longer he’s forced to stare at the stark whiteness of them. It’s almost void, worse than black. White has always been associated with innocence, pureness, clean, but Yoongi has always held a distaste for it, preferring the comforting dark colours to hold him through the dark times.

Holding distaste for a colour? He smirks, confusing the guard that still holds a firm, almost bruising grip on him. Perhaps he really does belong here.

He’s stopped almost immediately outside a door. The number four stares back at him with something he could almost call maliciousness from where it’s branded into the metal of the door, high and central above a small window about the size of a mailbox slot.

He glances at the guards, attempting to gage from them what they want him to do. His only answer is one stepping forward purposely, a set of keys in his hands which he shakes slightly until he finds the right one and places it in the lock. The door swings open with a loud creak and Yoongi waits until they instruct him to enter.

They step aside allowing the one who still holds a firm grip on him to step up to the door.

The walls of the room are an unsurprising white with two beds separated by two side tables and a small desk and chair set up in the corner. There’s another door on the fall wall which he assumes leads to a bathroom. Someone is sitting on the edge of the bed, his arms resting on his thighs as his fingers fidget with one another. He looks up as Yoongi steps in, the door closing behind him as he does so, the feeling of finally having the guards leave causing him to sigh in relief.

“So, who did I piss off to put into a room with you?” He asks, moving to sit down on the opposite bed.

Kim Seokjin stares back at him, watching his every move with an intense curiosity. “Somebody has to keep an eye on you.”

He laughs at that, silently thankful that the elder is here with him. He won’t have to go through this alone.

He kicks off his shoes, the coolness of the tile floor sending chills through him before he falls back against the mattress, his head hitting the soft pillows with a thud as he closes his eyes.

Jin stays silent, though Yoongi can tell by the aura practically manifested around the elder that he has many questions to ask. But he allows Yoongi to slip into a comfortable sleep guided by the cocktail of drugs currently dancing their way throughout his system.

The sound of footsteps walking past the metal door every so often let him know that someone is always watching, even when he is locked in the security of his room. He’s aware that from now on there will always be someone watching over him, keeping a constant close eye on him and that in its self is unnerving. But at the present time is not able to be helped.

Though he’s comforted by the fact that he has a familiar face right beside him, someone who he can talk to in the confines of their room when the days get too much, he can’t help feeling as though it’s wrong. That something about this whole situation is off and needs to be corrected sooner rather than later.

But if he really thinks about it he’s currently in a mental hospital, so things are already pretty fucked up.

The scrapping of a key turning in a lock wakes him up. He sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes sure that he only put his head down on the pillow moments ago. The same guard from before opens the door, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. Not that it’s up to Yoongi to give him one.

He glances at Jin across the room, the elder sitting up on his bed, his back resting against the wall as his hands tap against his knees, seemingly bored in the tiny room.

“Oh, it must be time for tea,” The elder almost sings, jumping off the bed as Yoongi looks on curiously to see what the guard will do.

“Come on. Time to eat,” Is all he says as he grabs Yoongi’s arm and hauls him off the bed, it wouldn’t be too much trouble as Yoongi has always been slim, and even he has noticed the extra weight that has dropped off him since his arrest.

He allows him to pull him up, steading himself on his feet as Jin waits for the two by the door. “I wonder what they’ll have on the menu tonight,” The elder asks to no one in particular as he stares down the corridor.

Yoongi trails behind him guard at his side, he’d noticed a small name badge when he walk by him out the door, Lee is all it read, and he wonders how the elder can be in such good spirits. They pass down a passage boarded on each side by doors with the same branded numbers, He can’t see inside enough to know if anyone is in them as the grip on his arm pulls him forward with hast. They end up down the stairs to the ground floor in a common area; the colours down here are darker, with dark couches and chairs, more appealing to Yoongi. He’s pulled straight past them, instead being led into a room set up like a cafeteria with long communal tables stretching almost the entirety of the small room. A few people are already sitting at them, obviously waiting for their meal of the night.

“Yoongi, we should sit over there,” Jin calls from a few meters in front of him; he’s pointing at one of the only smaller tables at the back that is currently seating a group of three. Yoongi raises his eyebrow in confusion, there’s already people sitting there. He feels the fingers on his arm let go and the presence of the guard leave him. He looks over his shoulder to see the guard, Lee, talking to what looks to be one of the nurses, she nods and then he leaves the room. Yoongi looks back over at Jin who’s still looking at him expectantly and nods, walking over to the table he’d suggested.

He takes the time to glance around the space, finally able to see the other people he will be spending every day with from now until he’s allowed to leave, if that day ever comes. He’s surprised to find that most of them look quite normal, normal in the sense that no one is running around screaming or throwing things that shouldn’t be thrown.

There are people ranging from young teenagers to some well into their sixties and he wonders just how long each of them have been here. If the elders had been here for years, or if they suddenly snapped and ended up here later in life. He’s never given much thought to the lives of other people, but he hopes it’s the later, if only so he can hold onto a little bit of hope for himself.

He catches the eye of a few of them, an unnerving feeling flooding through him as they remain staring at him with curious eyes without a hint of shame. Oh great he’s like the shiny new toy.

He turns to Jin confused as to why his friend is standing in front of the table instead of sitting down. Out of the three people sitting at the table only one of them looks up, a man about their age with twitching hands that he tries to hide by his sides.


Yoongi looks between the man and Jin, noticing the annoyed expression on his friend’s face. Jin just stands there staring at the table as if he was expecting them to get up.


The elder doesn’t even blink as Yoongi calls out his name.

“You three need to move, now.”

The man scoffs, turning away from Jin to talk to the other two, who have made no move to look at the two of them, almost as if they didn’t want to, as if they were scared to.

Yoongi touches Jin’s elbow gently, trying to get him to drop it. “Jin come on, we’ll just go sit somewhere else.”

“No.” His tone of voice causes a shiver to run down Yoongi’s spine. “This is our spot, Yoongi. They have to leave.” There’s a pause that follows that had Yoongi holding his breath. “In fact they need to leave.”

The guy turns back then, a glint hint in his eyes as he stares straight though Jin, and Yoongi realises that he’s staring at him. The coldness in his eyes causes Yoongi to freeze up, worried that the guy might just try and attack him. He’s opening his mouth to talk to Jin again when his friend speaks up. He leans forward his face an inch from the other mans, who leans back as much as he can without making it to obvious.

“I swear if you three don’t get up in three seconds you’re all going to regret it when we get free time in the common room later.” Did he just hear Jin, Kim Seokjin, threaten another human being? Nothing about this scene was making sense in Yoongi’s brain. “This is our table, so get your fucking asses up and go sit somewhere else.”

Finally taking Jin’s threats seriously the three get up quickly, collecting their trays as they do so and move to another table. Yoongi watches them the entire way, making sure that none of the men got it in their heads to attack Jin with the tray.

“Come on,” Jin speaks from beside the table, his hand gesturing for Yoongi to join him with his face split into a kind smile. Yoongi steals one more glance over at the group and finds the guy staring back at him, his eyes wide and curious with something that Yoongi is almost scared to delve into. He shakes his head, it’s obviously because the guy is crazy and he shouldn’t bother himself by worrying. He takes a seat beside Jin and stares at the door, waiting for something that even he’s unsure of.

He feels a strange sensation on the side of his face and turns back to find Jin staring at him expectantly, as if waiting for something.

“What?” His voice comes out brash and short, still annoyed at his friend for being so harsh with their fellow patients.

Jin tilts his head in the direction of the food. “Aren’t you going to go get us some food?”

Yoongi scoffs but gets up nonetheless rolling his eyes as he walks past the other patients to get in line for the food. Surely there had to have been some sort of altercation between Jin and the others that caused him to act like that, Yoongi only just got here, he shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions.

He stands at the back of the line, switching from foot to foot as he feels the weight of eyes upon him, picking him apart. A small part of him begins to feel self-conscious, but he spots something in front of him that holds some recognition in his hazy mind.


The head of brown hair in front of him turns around quickly, the grin of his friend greeting him immediately as the light in Hoseok’s eyes reflects the lights above them.


His friend bounds towards him, not sparing a thought for the people he pushes out of the way. Yoongi braces himself for the impact a second before Hoseok’s arms are wrapping tightly around him. “I’m so glad you’re here. This place has been so boring without you.”

Yoongi laughs, felling something within him lift. “I’m positive that’s not true.”

Hoseok only smiles as he keeps an arm slung over his shoulders, comfortable with him.

They walk back to their table with the food; Jin sits waiting as he picks the invisible dirt from his fingernails. He smiles when he notices the two and the food they’re carrying in their hands.

“So you found him?” Jin asks, gesturing to Hoseok who takes a seat across from them.

“Yep.” Yoongi glances around the dining hall finding no one else he recognises and yet every eye still seems to be trained on him. Felling uneasy he turns back to his friends. “Are the others here?”

Hoseok and Jin look at each other before Jin turns to him, nodding. “They’re around.”

Well Yoongi supposes there is more ominous ways to answer his question.

The dining hall empties out soon after; and Yoongi finds himself surprised to find that no one really loiters around after dinner, no one but the three of them who are currently on the receiving end of a harsh glare from the orderlies whispering amongst themselves by the door.

He once again feels uncomfortable under their scrutinising eyes, as if they could see something that he can’t. As if something was so wrong with him that they were forced to keep him under constant supervision.

“So what are we expected to do now?” He asks his friends, feeling out of place in his surroundings.

Jin is still busy eating, so Hoseok is the one who answers him, glancing quickly at the orderlies. “This is usually the time when we have a few hours of free time before lights out, but...” He trails off, glancing at the orderlies again.

“But, what?” Yoongi leans forward, eager to hear what Hoseok was going to say.

Hoseok leans in close, not wanting to be overheard. “But I think they might have other plans for you tonight.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Min Yoongi!” He desperately wants to ask Hoseok more, if only so he can prepare himself for what lies before him, but the booming voice of the orderly who has stepped forward, beckons his attention. “Let’s go.”

The man is in his forties, his skin tan and arms strong as he hauls Yoongi’s slight frame from his seat. His tray knocks against the table as his hand bumps it as he tries to find his balance.

“Let go.” He demands, his eyes hard as he stares up at the man. He wants to stay with his friends, to feel safe and secure with familiar faces by his side, but the man demands that he be separated, and there’s not much Yoongi can do as he’s pulled away, his friend’s faces vanishing as the door is shut behind him, shutting them off from each other. “What are you doing?”

“Protocol says that you have to go back to your room after dinner. So, back to your room you go.” He replies in a deadpan voice, almost like a recording stuck on a loop.

“For how long?”

The orderly stops outside his room, turns his key in the lock and swings the door open. “You’re not really in any position to be asking questions, or making demands.” Yoongi follows his eyes to where his fingers still hold a tight grip around his bicep, his fingers almost overlapping due to the skinniness of his arm.

The orderly pushes him into the room, his eyes flitting around in an effort to look anywhere but into Yoongi’s eyes, as if he was afraid that he would try and infect him with his insanity. Maybe he’s right, but Yoongi has never felt saner. He stares at the man as he walks back to the door and just as it begins to close Yoongi speaks.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” The small smile on his face causes a shiver to run down the man’s spine, as if he were looking into the eyes of the devil who stands before him appearing to be a slight, if not too skinny twenty three year old man.

Because Yoongi isn’t supposed to know why he’s been admitted, not the real truth anyway, that’s what everyone was told. But something in his eyes, that the orderly only saw because he made the mistake of looking up, told him that perhaps the man, who claims to have amnesia, knows more than he’s letting on.

The door slams shut and Yoongi is left with the silence of the room and his own thoughts, what a volatile combination.

He sits down on his bed, his legs dangling over the edge staring at the other side, at Jin’s bed, that stands so perfectly made as if the elder had not slept in it the previous night. He thinks about what Hoseok and Jin are doing right now as he sits locked in his room like some kind of animal. They’re probably lounging around talking together like old times, while he wonders what fucking bullshit this protocol is.

He lies back eventually, staring up at the ceiling where the light from outside plays with the shadows in the room, neither catching the other in an endless cycle of cat and mouse. He didn’t bother to turn the light on when he came in and he can’t be bothered now, his mattress having become strangely comforting for a hard slab of foam and springs.

His eyes snap open to the sound of the door creaking open and a shadowy figure stepping inside, alarmed he sits fully upright, his hands coming up to a defensive position by his face, that he has no doubt would be laughable to anyone who sees it.

Right on cue a chuckle finds its way out of the darkness towards him. “It’s just me.”

He relaxes at the sound of Jin’s voice, as the elder makes his way to his own bed, sits down and pulls off his slippers, placing them down neatly beside the bed. “So, how was your first day?”

Yoongi glances at him from his position back against the pillows, not sure if he heard him right. “Are you seriously asking that? I expected that type of stupid question from Taehyung, not you.”

Jin only nods, knowing that it was stupid the second he asked it, but quite frankly he didn’t have anything to say that wouldn’t be classed as insensitive or stupid to Yoongi.

They lie in silence for exactly two minutes and thirty nine seconds, if the counting in Yoongi’s head is reliable before he grows restless and sits up. “So what happens now?”

Jin turns on his side, starting at him with sleepy eyes. “You mean right now, or in general?”

“Right now.”

“Right now you go to sleep.” Jin rolls over to face the wall, done with the conversation to Yoongi’s surprise. But with nothing else to do he lies back down, pulling the covers up to his chin as a sense of comfort. He’s just closing his eyes, ready to welcome sleep when the door swings open, the hinges creaking loudly causing him to spring back up all signs of sleep lost.

“You need to take your pills.” A different orderly from the man before walks to his bed with a small plastic container and a cup of water, holding them out for Yoongi to take.

“What is it?” Yoongi asks sceptically, having no idea what cocktail of drugs these people are giving him.

“Something that will have you seeing rainbows and unicorns.” Yoongi was never the laughing type. The guy sighs, moving the cups closer to Yoongi. “Just take them; I want to go to knock off for the night.”

He grabs the pills, throwing them into his mouth and chasing it with the water, because hell, he’s sure he’s done worse things. He’s in this place after all. And perhaps maybe they’ll help him find some sleep.

The man takes the containers back without a word and walks out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Yoongi turns to Jin to see the slow rise and fall of his shoulders and he sleeps peacefully and he feels oddly jealous of his friend for being able to find that degree of comfort in a place like this. Though without warning his own eyes grow heavy and he doesn’t even feel his head hit the pillow as the drugs take control of his body and send him into the darkness of unconsciousness.


He sits up in his bed, rubbing his eyes that feel heavy from sleep. Why would somebody be disturbing him at this time of night?

“Yoongi?” The same voice calls. Through the darkness he can make out eyes peering at him through the slot in his door, the light from the hallway illuminating them in a way that looks almost inhuman, but from this distance he can’t make out who they belong to.

Reluctantly he gets up, figuring the person obviously knows who he is and are not going to go away any time soon. He walks over to the door coming eye to eye with the uninvited guest.

“I knew it was you, Yoongi-hyung!” The boy calls excitedly, his eyes crinkling around the edges as he grins.

Wait… He knows that voice.

His brain spins as he tries to put two and two together


His face moves up to finally show Yoongi that grin, one that he couldn’t mistake anywhere.

“Heya, Yoongi-hyung. When did you get here?”

“T-This morning,” He stutters out, still confused as he tries to wrap his head around what’s going on.

“That long and you haven’t come to visit me? I’m hurt, hyung.”

“I didn’t really have much of a choice,” He retorts.

Tae smiles again. “That’s okay, I found you instead. Now let me come in.”

“What? Tae, the doors locked.”

His smile turns into that same grin again, so mischievous and cunning, yet strangely safe. Seeing it again is like recalling a memory you didn’t know you had forgotten and feeling warm and safe again, just like you did back then.

Yoongi hasn’t felt safe for a long time.

“It’s okay, Yoongi-hyung. I’ve got the keys.”

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