Dear Heart | Yoongi

24

The next however long passes by slowly, not bothering to keep track of anything other than the amount of songs I'm able to complete. I raced home as soon as I got myself off stage, locking myself into the dance room before anyone could get in, and it's stayed that way since. I've not bothered leaving other than slipping out on occasion to use the bathroom, but outside of that I've not bothered with leaving. I've not let anyone inside either, not even Minnie. I don't want to see anyone, don't want to hear from anyone, don't want to be seen or heard anymore. I've not bothered with checking my phone, haven't bothered with even glancing in its direction each time it buzzes or rings, haven't even glanced towards the door when someone's knocking on it.

I don't care anymore. I don't care that I haven't eaten since the day before the incident at school. I don't care that I've not slept since the night before the incident. I don't care what interviews or performances I'm missing at this point. None of it matters. I have no doubt by now that Sihyun is going to ask that I finish my work for all of the comebacks and fire me right afterwards, have no doubt that Yoongi probably wants nothing to do with me after everything he's found out, and that's not even the worst of it. I just don't see the point in trying anymore.

I groan at the sound of someone knocking on the door once more, tears forming out of exhaustion and frustration, begrudgingly turning my head to look in the direction of the sound so that I can glare at whoever is bothering me now. My heart sinks when I find Yoongi stood on the other side, the glass in the door not being distorted in the slightest, allowing me to see just how tear stained his cheeks are. There's a bag in one hand, his other held up to lay flat against the glass, gaze locked on me. I pout at the sight, hating how upset he looks, hating how much my body alerts and feel alarmed at his presence.

I've not looked once at who's been at the door since I've gotten in and locked it, but it's been a while since anyone's bothered with trying to be let in again that the sound was both a surprise and frustration enough for me to have given in, and I regret having done so. I hardly have the composure to pull myself together enough to set my laptop on the floor beside myself, body screaming in disagreement as I tug myself onto my feet. My entire being shakes at what I'm doing, at what I'm trying to do, making it nearly an impossible task to drag my body over to the door.

There's tears flooding my cheeks by the time I can get the door unlocked, but I'm quickly backing away from it the moment the task is complete, gaze locked on Yoongi as I hurry back away, not ready to be so close to anyone yet, not ready to be anywhere near a guy again yet. There's a shaky smile that pulls onto his face at my actions though, motions cautious as he enters, waiting for me to be far enough away for the shaking to ease before he actually comes inside the room with me. I take note of the fact that he closes the door behind himself but doesn't lock it, somewhat surprised by the fact, though it doesn't ease my nerves any.

He doesn't move from the door initially, seeming to wait and watch silently as I return to where I've been sat on the floor as far away from the door as I can get without totally cornering myself. I move myself further away from the corner when I return to where I'd been, instincts reminding me to be careful of just where exactly I position myself within the room so as not to completely fuck myself if things go sideways. He doesn't move until I'm sat again, and my gaze doesn't move from his body as he finally moves once more, confusion flooding me until I realize what he's doing.

Watching him carefully, he keeps himself along the wall across the room from me as he walks, attention flickering between where I'm at and where he is, moving along the wall until he reaches the corner of that wall and the one across from the door, motions slow as he begins approaching me. My body tenses at him finally moving forward, something he seems to pick up on as he freezes immediately, worry flooding his eyes.