BTS Eighth Member | The Life: Pre-debut Years

Chapter 9- Getting Help

Author's Note at the End :)

January 2nd, 2013:

After the 25th of December, everyone was back at the dorm. We continued to work on various concepts and looking at different songs we thought would fit the group. We were really starting to bond. We had our own inside jokes and Jungkook had finally come out of his shell and was acting like a real 15-year-old boy, which meant he became extremely rowdy.

I was a little worried Yoongi would tell everyone, or worse, the company, about my shower meltdown on Christmas eve, but instead he didn't mention it... ever. When I saw him again in the dance studio on the 26th he didn't say anything, just the usual hi and asked how my Christmas day was. I'm glad he didn't make it into a bigger deal than it had to be, I was already embarrassed enough as it was, the whole group didn't have to know about how much of a mess I was.

That night, after my vocal lessons, I went to the music studio off of one of the dance studios that Yoongi practically lived in. I was a little scared to go in, everyone said disturbing him in the studio is like asking for the death glare that will send you straight to hell. But I felt like we should talk, he left so abruptly I felt like the conversation wasn't finalised.

I knocked on his door and I didn't hear a response, maybe he wasn't in there today? I slowly opened it and saw that he was there, headphones on, working intently. I quietly shut the door and I go to stand behind his chair.

"Um, Yoongi-oppa," I say quietly. He doesn't respond, obviously still not realising someone else was in the room, "Oppa." I say louder, walking forward to poke his shoulder.

"Jesus!", Yoongi says loudly, jumping a little. He turns around angrily to look at me. "Oh, it's you. What do you want?" he says, removing one side of his headphone from his ear and turning back towards the computer.

"I wanted to talk. I felt like the conversation we had on Christmas eve isn't, like, finished. You left so abruptly," I answer, sitting on the couch across the room.

"Really? What more do you want to say? I felt like it was done. How was your Christmas day? Better than Christmas eve I hope," he speaks honestly.

"Oh," I whisper. He was a lot harder to speak to now than in the bathroom. I guess the situation is different, I'm not a crying wreck and I did disturb him.

"My Christmas was good. Lonely, but no cold showers," I chuckle looking around the room.

"That's good, cold showers suck," he turns smiling, "have you looked into getting a therapist like you promised?"

I had not. I felt like it would be a waste of my time and my dad was already tight with money having to support two daughters on his own, I didn't want to be more of a nuisance than I already was. Asking him for money for a therapist would also force me to admit to my dad that I was not doing "just fine" as I kept telling him.

"Um, yeah, I've looked into it. They're kinda expensive aren't they though," I say, not looking him in the eyes.

"Does your dad not want to pay for it? I know a place that does it for pretty cheap, like a social services center for youth. I can go with you if you're too nervous to go alone," he says, looking at me seriously.