Yoongi stood still, watching the door, willing it to open again. But when it didn't, he strode across his room to his desk, placing his hands on its wooden edges, his head bowed.
He could see his disheveled bedsheets taunting him in his periphery, as well the leather strings of his sketchbooks. He reached over and flipped open the pages, until it came to rest open to the fresh pencil strokes creating the image of you naked, sleeping peacefully in his bed.
"You did the right thing," a voice spoke from behind him. He wasn't startled by it - he was enraged by it.
"Fuck you," Yoongi whispered back, not caring if his insolence was going to have consequences.
Then he felt his heart give an unpleasant squeeze.
His hand shot up immediately to grab his chest, and he huffed as the pain beneath his palm palpitated again.
"You won't suffer long," the man said.
Yoongi rolled his eyes. Not suffering for long wasn't exactly a promise that brought him joy.
"In the future, you should avoid sneaking into people's bedrooms in the middle of the night."
"I did not sneak, I simply appeared," Taehyung replied matter-of-factly, clearly a bit confused by Yoongi's intention. "The timing was of consequence to the circumstance."
"Yeah, but we were naked, in my bed."
"If she had been clothed then I wouldn't have been able to remove her scar without waking her," Taehyung said.
"That's not my point..." he sighed. "Whatever."
"You asked me to remove her mark. Have you changed your mind?"
"No, that's not..." he sighed again. Talking to Death was like talking to a robot. "Never mind. Thank-you for doing that."
Yoongi felt another pinch in his chest - it was more intense than the last one, and it pulled all his muscles taut. He panted heavily as the episode ended, and all he could think about was why it was happening.
You.
The way you looked at him, your eyes hopeful, full of love for him, pleading with him to admit he felt the same. The way the blinding light behind your eyes went off when he lied, and pretended like you were nothing to him. He wanted to say 'yes' and 'I love you too.' He wanted to scoop you into his arms, feel you wrap your limbs around him, kiss you, and hold you hostage in his bed until you were both satiated after many more days of not being apart.
But he didn't. He couldn't. He wouldn't. And it broke his heart.
Yoongi grimaced as another painful vice gripped his chest.
"Just take me now, please... it fucking hurts."
"I can't."
"Fuck you," he cursed Death again.
Yoongi heard the man's footsteps smoothly cross the floor towards him, as he came to lean against the wall, staring down at Yoongi's hunched form. The rage began to bubble even hotter within him, and it was a nice distraction from the heartbreak. He looked up to the man's ethereal face, his sea-foam hair, and his dispassionate gaze. He wanted to punch him.
"It'll hurt you more than it hurts me," Taehyung said, reading his thoughts. "But do so if you feel you must."
"Why? Why are you doing this?"
"It's not my doing."
"But you're a part of it."
"I am not. If I was, I assure you things would be different. I am here simply to pass on the message, and give you a choice."
