Dear Heart | Yoongi

25

The next morning rolls around far too quickly for my liking, and the only reason I'm pulling myself together enough to suffer through this meeting is so that I can prove to Yoongi that it'll only result in me being fired just like I've suspected all along. It's first that I actually properly leave the dance room, Yoongi having stayed with me after having been let in, only having left occasionally to use the bathroom as well or to reheat the soup and other food as he slowly coaxed me into eating throughout the evening.

I know I need to shower before I go in to meet with Sihyun, though the walk there is uncomfortable. Everyone's gaze is locked on me and Yoongi the entire time, Minnie standing up at the sight of me removing myself willingly from the dance room after all this time. That's not what makes me uncomfortable though, no, it's not the way Minnie jumps to her feet. It's not the way everyone else watches me with worry.

No, what makes me most uncomfortable is Taehyung's eyes on my form, his emotions completely unreadable at the moment. There's something in his eyes, something like a question, something almost accusatory. The weight of his attention is heavy, creating a thick air in the room that makes it hard for me to breathe, creating a haze in the gray room around me that leaves me dizzy, that leaves me wanting to tear myself to shreds in attempt to find and rid myself of whatever it is that's causing his reaction.

It's not a good feeling, and it's certainly no good for my self destructive state, the feelings mixing together in a way that has me stopping with gritted teeth as I stare in the direction of where I know the bathroom is. I know going in there like this right now will do me no good, more will happen in there than just a shower, and it's the last wisps of sanity I have to refrain from going and cutting my hair back down to a length where it's one less thing I have to deal with, back to the length I had to keep it at growing up in weak attempt to help keep my head above water. The feeling of it laying on my neck and back at the moment is burning and itchy, enough to have an idea that it'd merely be the first step of damage done if I go in there in this kind of state.

"Ji, come here."

My head snaps in Minnie's direction at her voice, breathing slowly growing heavy. I can see it in her eyes that she knows fully well why I've frozen where I am, what the thoughts and urges are that have me paused in the middle of the room between where the dining table is and where the couches are. She's the one who moves despite having asked me to come to her, stopping in front of me before reaching a hand out, an offering to prevent what we both know will happen otherwise.

I'm reluctant to give in, but take her hand, allowing her to lead me towards her own bathroom and running a quick shower for me. She doesn't leave the bathroom, instead sitting on the floor with her back against the shut door behind herself, eyes shut so that I can have my privacy without having to be alone. I merely sigh at it all, frowning as I give in so that I can get ready and get this ridiculously unnecessary meeting over with already.

It's not too much longer when Eunha and I are in a car, being taken to the studio so that we can meet with Sihyun. I've got headphones pulled over my ears and blasting music so as to avoid having to hear any shit she has to say on the short drive, only removing one side once we're stopping in front of the building so that we can be informed of where exactly we're meant to meet our manager at.

It's a silent walk to the man's office, but I try not to think about the fact that I'll be stuck alone with him and a bitch that despises my existence, trying to focus on the fact that I'll soon be able to put myself out of my own misery. I'm donning another one of Yoongi's sweatshirts today, baggy pants on instead of my typical ripped skinny jeans for once, just wanting to be as comfy as I can while I can be. I find that easiest to focus on as we near the man's office, bunching up the ends of the sleeves in my hands, focusing on the feeling of the material in my hands rather than the impending conversation.