a few weeks after sanctum is packed up and even jin, taehyung and jimin have all driven off to different places, jungkook finds himself coming into yoongi's house on a sunday morning, like he has done time and time before.

he goes up the stairs, passing yoongi's bedroom on the way. he doesn't stick his head in through the door, learnt that was a no-go on weekend mornings, but he does pause, hearing a grating voice on the other side of the door. is someone else here? yoongi never mentioned anything, but then again, they haven't talked all that much since sanctum, yoongi's been snappy, closed off, his unapproachability extended to jungkook now as well. it's cutting, but jungkook shrugs it off, figures yoongi will come out of it at some point.

curiosity has him pressing his face to the crack in the door, listening to the words. it's yoongi's voice, and a quick scan through the crack in the door finds him laying in his bed, fists clenched as he stares up at the ceiling.

'get up,' yoongi's hissing, a frantic quality to his voice, pushing out the self-loathing. 'get up you stupid sack of shit and do something with your life.'

there's no-one else in the room.

jungkook frowns. he's heard yoongi muttering to himself before, particularly in the past few weeks since the incident with taehyung, but he's never heard it so clearly before, never been able to pick out the venomous quality to his voice.

inside he hears the covers shift and yoongi's feet hit the ground. he scurries off before yoongi can get to the door, shuts himself up in his art room and listens for yoongi. he doesn't come in, it's become something of a rarity that he will. jungkook licks his lips, aware suddenly of the weight of his phone in his front pocket, the shape of it pressing into his thigh. he pulls it out, swipes the lock screen and clicks into his contacts, hesitating with the few numbers that come up.

his aunt's number shines up at him. he bites his lip and presses the call button, raising the device to his ear. it dials a handful of times before she picks up, voice clear and clinical, the kind she reserves for strangers.

'good morning, jeon eunmi speaking?'

'auntie?'

'jungkook?' there's a note of surprise in his aunt's voice, fair, considering he very rarely calls anyone. 'what are you doing calling me today?'

'i...' jungkook licks his lips. 'i have a question.'

'go ahead.

jungkook opens the door a crack, glancing down the hall. he can hear music playing in the office, proof that yoongi's distracted with work for the time being. 'how do you know when someone's not well? like, mentally not well. depressed or something.'

a hesitation, he can hear his aunt shifting, the click of her heels against a linoleum floor, 'who are we talking about here, jungkook?'

'a friend of mine. he's just behaving in this way and i don't know what's wrong. apparently it's normal sometimes but he wouldn't get out of bed last week and he's been drinking a lot more—'

'have you been drinking, jungkook?'

'no!' jungkook snaps, then covers his mouth, he pulls the phone away from his ear, hoping yoongi hadn't heard. he can still hear music playing down the hall so he presumes he's safe. 'it's just him. he's been drinking a lot and he was crying really hard the other night and i couldn't calm him down. you can't tell mum and dad, auntie. you can't.'

'i won't tell them,' eunmi says, 'as long as you promise to tell me if things get dangerous, alright?' jungkook nods, realises she can't see and mutters in affirmation. he doesn't quite understand what she means by dangerous, but he's too all over the place to ask. 'is there anything else?'

'he was talking to himself this morning,' jungkook blurts. 'swearing about not getting out of bed and being useless. he forgets to eat and he doesn't sleep. he's really hard on himself.'

'it sounds like it,' his aunt says. 'i don't know if he's depressed, jungkook, i'd have to talk to him to diagnose it, but he definitely doesn't sound happy either. i think he needs a friend right now, more than anything.'

there's something lodged in jungkook's windpipe that makes it hard to speak, painful even. 'is he going to be okay?'

jungkook holds his breath, waiting for her reply, he pretends not to notice the lengthy pause.

'i'm sure he will be,' eunmi says. 'this might not be anything more than a slump. maybe he'll go back to his normal self soon.'

jungkook thinks back to what jin's said in the past, about yoongi getting sad and angry, he feels a little sick to his stomach to think that this yoongi might actually be the normal yoongi.

'okay,' jungkook says, telling himself to calm down, to not get ahead of himself. 'thank you auntie, i'll talk to you later.'

'be safe, jungkook.'

the phone clicks off and jungkook slides the device back into his pocket, steadying his breathing. he doesn't even know why he's so caught up with all of this. it's not as if it's bad. it's not as if yoongi's really sick or something. he's just a little grumpy today.

he waits an hour, fits in a sketch or two, then heads down the hall and knocks on the door to yoongi's work room.

'what?' yoongi's gruff voice comes from the other side and jungkook presses inside, bracing himself.

'do you want something to eat, hyung?'

'already ate.'

for all jungkook knows, he could be telling the truth, so he drops it, returning to his room with his sandwich in hand. he sketches up a few ideas for a painting, borrowing some ideas from his sanctum sketchbooks. he fiddles with colour palettes and other elements before giving up on the idea. he can't concentrate, and nothing's going to work right if he doesn't have that focus. so he packs up for the day and goes to head out but again, but the sound of yoongi's voice catches him off-guard.

'god this is pathetic,' yoongi mutters to himself. 'stop being so fucking pathetic. fuck you. come on. work. come on. concentrate.'

'hyung?'

yoongi whirls around in his swivel chair, face a little red, eyes a little wet. jungkook looks away when yoongi swipes violently at his face, pretends not to see.

'what jungkook?'

'i'm... i'm heading off now,' jungkook mutters to the floor. 'i just thought you might wanna know.'

'okay?' yoongi says, eyes narrowing. 'see you tuesday.'

jungkook licks his lips, mind frantically trying to come with something, anything, he could say. yoongi turns away and he forces back a sigh.

'yeah,' jungkook says, and god he wishes he was smarter, wishes he could ask things in a way that wasn't blatantly asking. but he's not smart, and words will never be his strong point, so he just backs out the door with a sheepish nod that yoongi can't even see. 'see you then, hyung.'

the second jungkook steps inside the house that day, something feels... off.

it's like a prickling under his skin, the kind he gets in his fingertips when he hasn't drawn for some time, but all over. he doesn't normally come over on mondays, reserves them for actual study sessions at home, but today something just pressed him to go.

there's no music playing, that's the first clue. the house is completely silent, and considering there were no other cars but yoongi's in the driveway, jungkook knows he doesn't have guests.

he's not in his studio, that's the second clue. jungkook's not allowed in there, but because yoongi's not replying to his shouts, he pushes the door open anyway. any form of yelling would be better than dealing with this horrible sensation consuming him. yoongi is not in the room and there's no sign that anyone's been in there for a time, at least not in the past hour or so.

the third clue is the smell.

vomit. faint, but there, and it catches jungkook's attention whilst also making his stomach queasy. he turns down the hallway, towards yoongi's room, steps soft like there's some horror living under the floorboards.

'hyung?' jungkook calls out for the dozenth time. he pauses at the door, it's slightly ajar, he could peer inside if he wanted, but something about it makes him hesitate. he's always thought horror movies were laughable rather than scary, but right now reality is starting to resemble one of those films and he's berating himself for approaching the source of his fear like every dumb movie protagonist before him.

he pushes the door open.

he finds yoongi in a heap on the floor.

he doesn't jump to conclusions.

he doesn't.

'hyung?' his voice is trembling as he steps up to the man, crouches down beside him. fingers hover over his body, vibrating in the stagnant air. 'hyung, can you hear me?'

yoongi's out cold, vomit smeared on the side of his cheek and on the carpet beside him. a jittery peal of laughter bubbles up from jungkook's stomach as he reaches down to shake him, because the elder really does look ridiculous. what was the word jimin sometimes used? tragic. that's a good one.

yoongi's skin is like touching ice, sends shudders down his spine.

'yoongi?' he drops formalities, shakes the man's shoulders a bit more firmly, racked with helpless laughter. god, yoongi's tragic, he's so freaking tragic. it's hilarious. 'wake up, you passed out.'

no response.

jungkook's heart lurches. he stops shaking yoongi. fumbles for the juncture at his neck.

he can't feel a pulse.

'no,' jungkook mutters, heart-rate sky-rocketing. 'no no no. okay, yoongi, wake up alright? wake up. hyung, please? please?'

yoongi's not breathing, he's not fucking breathing.

jungkook digs out his phone, can't move his hands fast enough. he dials 119, presses the phone to his ear. he's going to be sick. he's going to throw his heart up. he can feel it.

this isn't funny anymore.

this isn't fucking funny.

'ambulance!' his voice is barely legible, choked up on tears and phlegm and fuck. 'i need an ambulance, please i—i think my friend is dead, i don't know what to do. please. help me.'