방탄 소년단
"That... gash," I muttered, my nose rumpled in disdain - and sympathy for the man - as I studied the newly developing scar on his right eye.
It was fresh, the skin that surrounded the vermilion wound was puffy and distended, as if it just hap...
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The last thing I wanted to do was express my implacable emotions to Yoongi, in fear of an inevitable defamation. Never did I pause my erratic mind to consider that perhaps he would understand my emotions due to the fact that, back then, he was similar to me. He had trouble becoming the man his father wanted him to be, Yoongi was heartfelt and emotional, or so it seemed when he went into elaborate details about his past. However, this would only be the cause of his demise— showing such vulnerabilities in the world he lives in.
There was a deep sense of respect that nestled in my warm chest as I watched Yoongi break down in front of me. I was sad for him, yes. Yet, I also found myself awestruck, eyeing him reverently as he allowed his emotions to reach bedlam without fear of judgment. I couldn't help but admire Yoongi for such vehement courage. It showed me just how much change he went through internally to make our relationship work.
In the days that followed, I couldn't stop thinking of Yoongi. He was all that occupied my mind. Nothing else mattered, not even the death of the two men that Yoongi assured me they deserved. I hadn't a difficult time believing that— though I made an effort, on my own, to plead for forgiveness, and repent for the sins I had decided to make. I was being hard on myself, I knew I was.
Yoongi was ever so graceful, he had an idea of how hard I was being on myself, hence he tried his best to comfort me in the best way possible. Reminding me that I saved his life, many times, which I denied. I couldn't fathom that I helped, and saved his life. It was a huge responsibility and a title I didn't want to hold. I helped him, but it wasn't all on me. If it weren't for the help of Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi himself, I would have never gotten Yoongi and myself out of there.
It took a great level of effort in me to not give in, and just sob as Yoongi drifted off into another realm, succumbing to his detrimental injuries. I recognized his efforts for everything. I wanted this relationship to work, the long, cold months of December gave me a small taste of what it was like without Yoongi by my side, and it was the most heartbroken I had felt in all my twenty years of existence. I relied on him too much, it was too late to try and break that unhealthy habit. All I could do was embrace his presence with open arms, his presence that offered me ebullience that susurrated around my chest, floating, and repleting my body with something I had always been missing since the day I was taken from my home.
Every time we were together, I tried my best to appreciate the little things. The small hugs, the hand holds, the kisses, the long conversations we carried out, the laughs, our concurrent breathing. Everything. It was all so serene. Of course, he took me back home right on time, Namjoon and Hoseok switching off, still as obstinate as ever that Yoongi wasn't alone, or unarmed.
At first, I was so against it. I wanted Yoongi to myself, as selfish as it seemed. But, after everything had happened, I began to understand why they were so headstrong about this. I went along with it. I sided with both Hoseok and Namjoon in order to keep Yoongi alive. There was no doubt in my mind that he could save himself, and fight off any threat, however, I didn't want to imagine him in another destructive situation again where his life was on the line.
