The Magic Shop: A BTS Short Story Compilation

8: Crossing Lines

Yeoreum must be genuinely out of her mind or wildly desperate because, for a brief second, she considered turning around to return his embrace. There was always that reckless part of her, the one that wished to love him no matter what, that thought, even if this moment dispersed like a dream in daylight, she'd rather live in it for as long as she could.

Thankfully, she still had an ounce of sanity left. Somewhere beneath her clambering impulses to be with him no matter what, a microscopic sense of self-preservation shrieked loudly enough to snap her awake. Yeoreum opened her eyes and with great determination, pulled away from Yoongi's embrace. Without his touch, the coldness of the room quickly seeped into her skin. She shivered. Again, the urge to crawl back into his warmth nearly overwhelmed her, but she gritted her teeth and tried to open the front door. It didn't budge.

"You're leaving?" Yoongi asked.

"Yeah."

"I see."

Yeoreum frowned. What did he see? What did he mean?

"You need to unlock the door first," he added when she continued fumbling with the knob.

She seethed. Not only did she feel foolish, but the way it seemed like he was actually trying to help her leave gnawed at her. Couldn't he try to make her stay? Or if that was too much to ask, then at least show concern that she was leaving in the middle of the night! Clenching her jaw, she gripped the hexagonal-shaped knob to withdraw the lock bolt only to quickly release when the wound she got when she fell stung.

"Fuck!" She slowly unfurled her fingers to reveal her scratched up palm.

"Are you okay?" Before she could respond, Yoongi was already next to her gripping her wrist. "I should have cleaned this earlier. Let me do that now."

Yeoreum abruptly pulled her hand free from his, the spot he held now burning more than her measly scrape. "No! It's okay. I'll do that when I get home."

Turning away from him, she once again tried to turn the knob for the bolt but her hand shook so much her grip kept slipping and the dratted thing wouldn't move. Stifling another curse, Yeoreum covered her face and willed herself to calm down. If she didn't get a grip soon (pun intended), she'd devolve into a hysterical mess.

Why was she panicking, anyway? In the first place, she had willingly put herself in this position by pretending to be drunk just so she could trick him into taking her home. Besides, it's not like she was in any danger. He wasn't a killer out to murder her. He wasn't a kidnapper about to trap her in his basement.

He was just Min Yoongi.

And that, unfortunately, was more terrifying.

It's not that he would intentionally hurt her. Despite everything that happened, she still believed in his inherent goodness. The Min Yoongi she once knew gave up all the money he'd saved up doing back-breaking work just to save a street cat hit by an unscrupulous motorist. That man made daily visits to an old woman living in the basement apartment near his to help her with housework. A man like that didn't have the capacity to deliberately do evil.

Instead, Min Yoongi hurt her unconsciously, without him even trying. How could she blame him for that? It wasn't his fault he no longer required her existence in order to thrive. Though it stabbed at her like a million jagged knives, she couldn't blame him for already moving on when she was still stuck on him and the love they once shared. These past few months, seeing him happily achieving his dreams was torture of the most bittersweet kind. She was happy for him. She genuinely was. But she could no longer bear it, not when she was slowly but surely dying inside.

"Do you really want to go?" he asked, interrupting her convoluted thoughts.

She flinched. His low and even tone irked her. He sounded so unaffected, like he was making casual conversation.