Train to Daegu || MYG.

CHAPTER 7

Yoongi’s POV

<Present>

Now as I sat in the train, I remembered her. Her smile and her touch. I remembered how much I have loved her, how much I missed her, but at the same time, how much I hated them - Kang Yoonjae and her.

I felt anxiety build up in my chest. I felt my hands tremble with anger. I was boiling inside, wishing to meet them in the train just to yell at them.

When I caught them red-handed yesterday, I wasn't able to do that as my sarcasm had overcome my anger and honestly, I didn't regret it.

I looked outside the window and remembered where I was going.

Daegu.

My hometown. My sweet and secret place. Everything there would be the same after I left - my parent's restaurant, my brother, my cousins. Everything would be alright.

I glanced over my shoulder, still trying to focus as much as I could on the positive side of everything. Seeing my family again, getting rid of toxic people in my life, among others, when I suddenly laid my eyes on her.

She was sitting alone with her bags on the seat next to her and her face buried in a hoodie. She seemed extremely sad, defeated and everything around her seemed gray.

I couldn't stand the fact that she seemed to be in such a gloomy mood on her own, so I decided to sit in front of her. I stood up, taking my bag with me and sat in front of her. She looked up at me and I looked right into her eyes, trying to smile as gently as possible. But her eyes were already wet and instead of a smile or of any other kind of reaction, I heard her sob and watched her look down, burying her face in her sleeves.

“Oh, I'm sorry Miss,” I quickly said and reached for my handkerchief. “I didn't mean to make you cry. Here, take it,” I continued and handed her the handkerchief which she took it.

“Thank you,” she softly replied between her muffled cries. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have...”

“We all have our bad days.”

I looked at her face. Her face was beautiful but the purple patches on her cheeks made me worried. These constellations weren't some kind of magical make up nor simple stains on her face. It looked like bruises. As she handed back the handkerchief, trying to hide her face, I dared to ask.

“Is everything alright with your face?” I took the piece of fabric she was handing me and after I asked, her face went deeper into the hood.

“I'm alright.” Her words were cold, as if it had reminded her of something she wanted to forget. I shouldn't have been this curious.

“Oh, okay.”

The silence became unbearable. For the two of us.