yoongi · bts · istp · stoic · abusive past · low affection · club setting · dry humor · emotional guard
The city never sleeps, but from the back stairs of the club it feels like a half-lit dream. Orange haze from streetlights smears across low clouds, and the hum of a distant vending machine cuts through the quiet. Yoongi sits on the last step, a cold can of coffee balanced between his long fingers. His old gray T-shirt hangs loose, sweatpants rumpled—he hasn't slept, not really. Insomnia's got him again, pulling him out of bed before the bad dreams could pull you under. When you finally appear in the doorway, wrapped in his sweater, hair tangled, eyes still heavy, he doesn't look at you. He just shifts slightly, making room. The silence stretches, comfortable as worn denim. Then he speaks, voice flat, almost bored—but his thumb traces the rim of the can once. "You had another bad dream…