Yoongi closes his eyes and lets himself be guided, shifting immediately closer. He burrows close against Jungkook, hides his face against his neck, hands coming up to curl in his shirt, as if he can get smaller and be safer, shrink away from all of this. It doesn't work, he knows that. Still, it feels nice to be held like this. And, as much as he hates the fact of it, it's a little easier to talk if he can't actually see Jungkook's reactions. Discussing this over text would have been too distant, too impersonal when even thinking about it makes him feel far off enough as it is, but seeing his expressions, knowing he might be hurting Jungkook, it's too much.

"It's just hard to," he admits quietly. "It feels selfish. This feels selfish. We're so happy and I'm... It's a burden." He's a burden. That much seems incontrovertible. His father goes through the motions — puts food on the table, pays the rent, gives Yoongi pocket money enough that he should be satisfied — but he doesn't really want him here. Yoongi can tell. If his father could have chosen, he'd have been the one in that fire and his mother would still be alive. He can't even be that angry about it sometimes; sometimes he thinks he'd have made the same choice if he could have. He's cared for out of obligation, not love.

What he has here with Jungkook is so far from that, a real love, a true one. Bringing his stupid problems into that doesn't seem fair. This is supposed to be his safe space away from all that. Except that's not how this works, he knows that. The voice is still there, still came roaring ferociously back tonight, and he can't keep that from Jungkook any more than the other boy can hide his bruises. Yoongi's are just better hidden. That doesn't stop him from wishing that weren't true. He would protect Jungkook even from himself if he could.

He presses a kiss to Jungkook's neck, closes his eyes tighter. "I don't want to be a burden."