Spring Bloom

The Day It Withered

"I fucking hate this", you had whispered into the snowy cold night. In front of you, Yoongi stood apathetically, eyes bloodshot and lips tight. The warm hot chocolate in your hands was no solace for the piercing winds of the winter, making ways around the panels of your coat as they flapped around to you. The tears down your cheeks were freezing, the saltiness on your tongue an aftertaste to how much you had cried. "God, I hate you so much."

He swallowed the lump in his throat, opening his mouth to speak. You waited. He sighed. "I'm sorry, love. I have no words."

"You could have told me earlier."

"It's just three months, though."

"It's three whole months!"

"I'm not leaving you." He said, cupping your hand in his warmly. "I'm just needing to go away for a bit."

"I wouldn't mind it any other time, but now? After all the plans that we had made?"

His fingers traced over the ring on your finger, thumb tracing odd shapes on the back of your palm. "I know this is a lot to ask of you -"

"No, don't say that," you said, voice cracking again. "You know that I'd do anything for you."

"And that's exactly why I didn't tell you beforehand," he confesses. "You are happy here, and it would simply do no justice to either of us to try and prepare to be separated for a while. It hurts, I know it does." He shakily smiles at you. "But we have no other choice right now."

'Are you sure?" you ask, unconvinced. "Is there no possibility that I can go with you? Do you have to leave?"

A watery smile. "I'm afraid I have to." He raised his hand to your cheek, thumb tracing the line that so many tears had fallen from. "I don't want to, either, but I have no choice but to leave."

The gentle snowfall was taking a turn for the worse - you hadn't even realised that the snow was up till your ankles, gradually rising faster and faster.

"It's not a lot," he tried reasoning. "Since the workload isn't that heavy, we mostly have to conclude the results of our experiments and prepare for the journal report. We'll be fine, I promise."

"Yeah, I know you'll be fine," you scoffed, however, your actions betrayed you. Your free hand reached out to his, squeezing warmly, tightly, in the hope to convince yourself that it would be fine.

Still holding your hand in his, he gently took you towards the benches in front of where you were standing. "It isn't good for you to keep crying in the cold while freezing," he grinned, tucking you close under his arm as you both sat down, huddling away from the frosty cold.

"What time do you have to leave?" You asked, not really wanting an answer to the question.

"Tomorrow morning." He glanced at you as you buried your face into his shoulder, ignoring the tears that had been building up in favour of holding him tighter. Putting his cup down, he let his arms surround you, trying to absorb as much of your warmth he could before he had to leave. "Tomorrow morning," he sighed, "and three months."

"Three months," you repeated dully.

"It'll pass in no time."

"I'm worried for you."

"I don't want you to be."

"I can't help it," you shrugged, interlocking your fingers with his. "I don't remember the last time we were apart for so long." You thought for a few seconds. "Wait, it's been ten years since we were together?"

"Yup."

"Wow," you exclaimed. "I've been dating you for way too long."

"Isn't it healthy, then, that we are apart for some time?" He joked, grinning when you punched him playfully.

"I'll speak to the wedding planner, then, try to push it by a few months," you suggested, snuggling further into his arms.

"Don't worry about it," he said, kissing the top of your head.

"I'm not worried, per say, I just liked our wedding date a lot," you pouted. "Getting married on Valentine's Day sounded cute."

"You can just date me for an extra year and we can get married on Valentine's- ouch," he groaned as you punched him again. "Hey, I'm not saying we can't get married before that!"

"I'm still buying that dress," you grumbled. "And you're buying that tux."

He smiled warmly at you, fingers clasping around yours delicately. "Of course."