float (yoonseok/sope/ot7)

prelude

[a/n] caution: a bit of graphic imagery and not the  😏 kind of graphic

• f l o a t • 

Yoongi zoned out slightly, watching the trickling water of the fountain in the lobby while he waited for the elevator. 

The lobby, the entrance to the center where people came to heal, was deceptively beautiful.

But Yoongi knew better.

Yoongi knew that healing hadn't a thing to do with beauty. 

Healing was an ugly process.

He knew ever since he was a child, all the times he'd fallen at play and skinned his knees on the pavement. 

Healing was never beautiful.

Healing began with the tears and the sting - the realization that you got hurt. Or that you hurt yourself. Then it was time to search the wound - as uncomfortable as it might be, it was time to assess how badly you'd really hurt yourself.

Then came the bandage - covering, hiding, concealing the hurt from the rest of the world. As the wound healed a harder barrier, a scab, to further protect. 

From others... from yourself.

Healing wasn't beautiful. 

That barrier, the scab, the new strength you'd formed would undoubtedly come under attack by none other than yourself. 

The healing wound, so ugly and disturbing that you begin to pick at it. Second-guessing your choices, your successes, your positive thoughts. 

Picking yourself apart although you know you ought to simply trust the process.

Yoongi had seen it again and again. He knew.

Healing wasn't beautiful.

But, despite all that, survivors were.

• • •

"Are you excited to be discharged?"

Yoongi averted his eyes shortly after this question was spoken, aware of his dark under-eye circles and the dullness in his complexion. He hadn't had much sleep thinking about this day.

Typically, for most addicts, this was a bittersweet moment.

The light and airy taste of freedom followed immediately by sinister undertones which hinted at the high chance of relapse.