The room was dark except for the faint glow of the streetlight leaking through the thin curtains. It wasn't enough to soften the edges of the room-the cracked plaster on the walls, the battered desk piled with old papers, and the mattress pushed against the corner. The hum of the old fridge was the only sound breaking the silence.

Yoongi sat motionless on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, fingers interlocked. He had been staring at the white envelope for hours. It sat on the desk, pristine and out of place in the chaos of his small, cluttered apartment. The name written in gold script-his name-stood out like a curse.

"Min Yoongi."

The handwriting was Seokjin's. Yoongi didn't need to open it to know what it was. He had read the letter once, hours ago, and it was still echoing in his mind like a cruel refrain.

"Yoongi,
I'm getting married. I want you there. Please come home."

Home. The word stung more than it should. Yoongi shifted, his shoulders heavy with the weight of memories he couldn't silence. Home wasn't the place Seokjin remembered. For Yoongi, it was a graveyard.

The rain outside had started again, tapping steadily against the window like a metronome keeping time with his thoughts. He had been hiding here for so long-years spent in this tiny apartment with its bare walls and half-empty shelves, where no one knew his name and no one cared. It was better this way. Safer.

But the letter changed everything.

Another knock came at the door. The second today.

Yoongi didn't move. His body was heavy, as though the air itself was pressing him down. He closed his eyes and waited. Maybe they would go away. Maybe he could pretend he didn't exist just a little longer.

"Yoongi, I know you're in there."

The voice was familiar. Clear, firm, and threaded with something Yoongi hadn't heard in years-concern.

Seokjin.

The silence in the room shattered. Yoongi opened his eyes, his breath catching in his chest. He hadn't seen his brother since the day he walked away-since he left everything behind and swore never to look back.

"Yoongi," Seokjin called again, his voice muffled through the door. "I'm not leaving until you open up. You know I won't."

Yoongi swore under his breath, dragging a hand through his unkempt hair. He stood slowly, his bare feet touching the cold floor, and made his way to the door. The knock came again just as his fingers reached for the lock.

"I'm coming, hyung," he thought bitterly, though he didn't say it.

The door creaked as Yoongi opened it just a crack. Through the sliver, Seokjin's face came into view. His brother looked the same-clean-cut, polished, with that quiet authority Yoongi had always admired but resented. But there was something else now. Lines beneath his eyes. A faint tiredness that Yoongi couldn't remember ever seeing before.

Seokjin didn't smile, didn't try to soften the moment with pleasantries. He just looked at Yoongi, his gaze steady and searching, as though he was trying to see through him.

"You look like shit," Seokjin said quietly.

Yoongi smirked faintly. "Thanks. You're not looking too bad yourself."

Seokjin tilted his head, not amused. "Are you going to let me in?"

Yoongi hesitated. Every instinct screamed to shut the door, to slam the bolt and pretend his brother hadn't found him. But it was too late for that. Seokjin was here now, and there was no running this time. With a resigned sigh, Yoongi opened the door fully and stepped aside.

The room felt smaller with Seokjin in it. He glanced around, taking in the cracked walls and the mess, but said nothing. He didn't need to. His silence was loud enough.

Yoongi leaned against the desk, arms crossed tightly over his chest, as though trying to keep himself together. "What do you want?"

Seokjin turned to face him, his hands slipping into the pockets of his dark coat. "You read the letter?"

Yoongi's jaw clenched. "Yeah."

"And?"

"And I don't know what you're expecting me to say, hyung." Yoongi looked away, focusing on a stain on the floor rather than his brother's face. "Congratulations? Good for you?"

Seokjin sighed, shaking his head. "I want you there, Yoongi. At the wedding."

"Why?"

"Because you're my brother."

Yoongi flinched. The words hit harder than they should have. He tightened his arms around himself, trying to hold the pieces together.

"I left for a reason," Yoongi said, his voice low. "You shouldn't have come here."

Seokjin stepped closer, his expression softening. "Yoongi, it's been years. I don't know why you left, or what happened, but it's not too late to come back. You're still my brother."

The silence stretched between them like a chasm. Yoongi could hear his heartbeat in his ears, the rain tapping louder now, as if the world was trying to drown out Seokjin's words. He wanted to believe him, but the truth sat heavy in his chest-a truth he couldn't share.

"You don't know what you're asking," Yoongi muttered finally.

"Then tell me," Seokjin urged. "Tell me why you left. Tell me what's keeping you away."

Yoongi's hands curled into fists, his nails biting into his palms. His throat tightened, but he said nothing. He couldn't. How could he tell Seokjin that the father they both grew up with was a murderer? How could he say that he watched Hoseok die because of him?

Seokjin sighed again, softer this time, and Yoongi hated the disappointment in his voice. "I don't know what happened to you, Yoongi. But I know this-running away won't fix it. You can't keep punishing yourself like this."

Yoongi looked up sharply. "What makes you think I'm punishing myself?"

"Because I know you." Seokjin placed the envelope back on the desk, where it sat like an accusation. "The wedding is in three weeks. Come, Yoongi. If not for me, then for yourself."

Yoongi didn't answer.

Seokjin lingered for a moment, as if waiting for something, but when Yoongi said nothing, he turned and walked to the door. "Think about it," he said quietly before disappearing into the rain.

Yoongi stayed where he was, the room pressing in on him. He stared at the envelope, the words from Seokjin's letter looping through his mind. "Come home."

But home wasn't what Seokjin thought it was.

Yoongi sank onto the bed, his shoulders slumped, and buried his face in his hands. Rain continued to pound against the window, each drop like a ticking clock counting down the days until he would have to face the past he had spent so long trying to escape.

He knew one thing for certain: going back to that house would tear him apart.

....................................